CONCORD 


LECTURES 


ON 

PHILOSOPHY 


COMPRISING  OUTLINES  OF  ALL  THE  LECTURES  AT  THE  CONCORD 
SUMMER  SCHOOL  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  1882 


WITH  AN 

HISTORICAL  SKETCH 


COLLECTED  AND  ARRANGED  BY  RAYMOND  L.  BRIDGMAN 
REVISED  BY  THE  SEVERAL  LECTURERS 
APPROVED  BY  THE  FACULTY 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 


MOSES  KING,  PUBLISHER 

HARVARD  SQUARE. 


Copyright,  1883,  by  Moses  King. 


Wright  & Potter  Printing  Company,  Boston. 


Coxcord,  Mass.,  August  22,  1882. 


The  following  abstracts  are  made  from  the  Lectures  delivered  at  the  Concord 
Summer  School  of  Philosophy  during  the  Term  of  1882.  They  have  been 
approved  by  the  several  lecturers  by  whom  they  were  delivered , and  their  object  is 
to  present  in  a concise  form , convenient  for  the  general  reader , all  the  essential 
outlines  of  the  Lectures , and  especially  to  preserve  the  chief  features  of  the  courses 
of  lectures  upon  philosophical  subjects. 


A.  BBONSON  ALCOTT,  Dean. 
S.  II.  EMEBY,  Jr.,  Director. 

F.  B.  SANBOBN,  Secretary. 


% 


31156t 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/concordlectureso01conc 


THE  ORDER  OF  LECTURES  — 1882. 


FIRST  DAY. 

PAGE 

Salutatory,  by  Mu.  A.  Bronson  Alcott, 13 

Poem,  by  Mu.  F.  B.  Sanborn, 14 

Socrates  and  the  Pre-Socratic  Philosophy,  by  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris, 18 

SECOND  DAY. 

Premises,  Predications  and  Outlines  of  Christian  Philosophy,  by  Dr.  H.  Iv.  Jones,  . . 20 

Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany,  by  Prof.  George  H.  Howison,  ...  24 

THIRD  DAY. 

Personality,  by  Mr.  Alcott, 31 

State  of  Philosophy  in  Germany,  by  Prof.  Howison .32 

FOURTH  DAY. 

Poetry,  by  John  Albee 37 

Aristotle’s  “ De  Anima,”  by  Dr.  Harris, 40 

FIFTH  DAY. 

Scottish  Philosophy,  by  President  James  McCosii, 43 

Idols  and  Iconoclasts,  by  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe, 47 

SIXTH  DAY. —THE  EMERSON  COMMEMORATION. 

Address,  by  Mu.  Sanborn,  . 53 

The  Nature  of  Knowledge,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  C.  A.  Bartol,  55 

Ion  : a Monody,  by  Mr.  Alcott, 57 

Emerson  as  a Poet,  by  Joel  Benton, 60 

Reminiscences  of  Emerson,  by  Mrs.  Howe, 62 

Dialectic  Unity  in  Emerson’s  Prose,  by  Dr.  Harris, 63 

A Visit  to  Emerson,  by  Mr.  Albee, 66 

Poem, — “ Consolation,”  by  Mrs.  Martha  P.  Lowe, 69 

Emerson  as  a Philosopher,  by  Dr.  Alexander  Wilder, 70 

Reminiscences  of  Emerson,  by  Mrs.  Ednaii  D.  Cheney, 72 

SEVENTH  DAY. 

Relation  between  Common  Sense  and  Philosophy,  by  Dr.  Jones 74 

Gnosticism  and  Neo-Platonism,  by  Dr.  Harris, 76 


311561 


6 


Order  of  Lectures — 1882. 


EIGHTH  DAY. 

TACE 

Relation  between  Science  and  Philosophy,  by  Dr.  Jones,  . , 79 

Hebrew,  Greek,  Persian  and  Christian  Oracles,  by  Mr.  Sanborn 81 

NINTH  DAY. 

Relation  of  Philosophy  to  Agnosticism  and  Religion,  by  the  Rev.  R.  A.  Holland,  . . 84 

Christian  Mysticism : Bonaventura  and  Meister  Eckliart,  by  Du.  Harris,  ....  85 

TENTH  DAY. 

Dr.  Hickok’s  Philosophy,  by  Prof.  C.  E.  Garman,  ........  88 

Man  as  Creative  Power,  by  Dr.  R.  G.  Hazard, 97 

ELEVENTH  DAY. 

Relation  between  Experience  and  Philosophy,  by  Dr.  Jones, 101 

Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits,  by  Dr.  Hazard, 104 

TWELFTH  DAY. 

The  Ascending  Scale  of  Powers,  by  Mr.  Alcott, 109 

THIRTEENTH  DAY. 

Nature,  by  Mrs.  Ciieney, 110 

Philosophy  of  the  Bhagavad  Ghita,  by  Dr.  Harris, 112 

FOURTEENTH  DAY. 

Genesis  of  the  “ Maya,”  by  Dr.  Jones, 114 

Historical  Epochs  of  Art,  by  Dr.  Harris, . 117 

FIFTEENTH  DAY. 

Childhood,  by  Miss  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody, 119 

Readings  from  Thoreau’s  Manuscript,  by  Mr.  Sanborn,  .......  124 

SIXTEENTH  DAY. 

Oracles  of  New  England,  by  Mr.  Sanborn, 12G 

Individualism,  by  Mr.  Alcott, 129 

SEVENTEENTH  DAY. 

Philosophy  of  Religion  and  the  Law  of  the  Supernatural,  by  Dr.  Jones,  ....  131 

Schelling’s  Relations  to  Kant  and  Fichte,  by  Prof.  John  Watson, 134 

EIGHTEENTH  DAY. 

Landscape  Painting  — Turner,  by  Dr.  Harris, 13G 

NINETEENTH  DAY. 

Schelling’s  Early  Treatises,  Transcendental  Idealism  and  Philosophy  of  Identity,  by 

Prof.  Watson, 139 

Alexandrian  Platonism,  by  Dr.  Wilder,  141 


Order  of  Lectures  — 1SS2.  7 

TWENTIETH  DAY. 

PAGE 

Community  of  the  Eaiths  and  Worships  of  Mankind,  by  Dr.  Jones 141 

Immortality,  by  Mr.  Alcott.,  . . < 148 

TWENTY-FIRST  DAY. 

Symbolism  of  Color,  by  George  P.  Latiirop, 149 

Fichte’s  “ Destination  of  Man,”  by  Dr.  Harris 152 

TWENTY-SECOND  DAY. 

Fichte’s  Wissenschaftslehre — Theoretical,  by  Dr.  Harris, 155 

Schelling’s  Later  Philosophy  and  Transition  to  Hegel,  by  Prof.  Watson,  ....  158 

TWENTY-THIRD  DAY. 

The  Symposium,  by  Dn.  Jones, 160 

Atomism,  by  Mr.  Holland, 162 

TWENTY-FOURTH  DAY. 

Fichte’s  Wissenschaftslehre  — Practical,  by  Dr.  Harris 164 

Valedictory,  bjr  Mr.  Alcott 167 


CONCORD  SCHOOL  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

FIFTH  SESSION, 

July  and  august,  1883, 


So  far  as  can  now  be  foreseen,  the  lectures  and  conversations  at  the  Summer 
School  in  1883,  will  be  given  b\-  the  following  persons  : — 

Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott, — Four  Conversations. 

Dr.  H.  K.  Jones, — Four  Lectures. 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  — Four  Lectures. 

Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn,  — Four  Lectures. 

Prof.  G.  H.  Howison,  — Four  Lectures. 

Rev.  Dr.  R.  A.  Holland, —Four  Lectures. 

Should  either  of  the  above  named  lecturers  fail  to  give  his  course,  his  place  will 
be  taken  by 

Mr.  Denton  ,T.  Snider,  — Four  Lectures. 

The  subjects  of  all  the  courses  cannot  be  announced  as  yet.  Dr.  Jones  will  lect- 
ure on  “ The  Platonic  Philosophy,”  under  the  four  following  heads  : 

1.  The  Platonic  Idea  of  Deity. 

2.  The  Platonic  Idea  of  the  Sold. 

3.  The  Platonic  Idea  of  the  World , or  the  Habitation  of  the  Sold. 

1.  The  Platonic  Idea  of  History. 

Mr.  Sanborn  will  lecture  on  “ The  History  of  Philosoplry  in  America,”  under  the 
following  heads  : 

1.  The  Puritanic  Philosophy : Jonathan  Edwards. 

2.  The  Philanthropic  Philosophy : Benjamin  Franklin. 

3.  The  Negation  of  Philosophy . 

4.  The  Ideal  and  Vital  Philosophy : 11.  W.  Emerson. 

Professor  Howison  will  lecture  on  “ Hume  and  Kant  and  the  Philosophical  Ques- 
tion as  between  them.” 

Mr.  Snider’s  subject  is  “ Homer  and  the  Greek  Religion.” 

Twelve  other  lectures  or  readings  will  be  given,  by  the  following  persons,  or  some 
of  them  : — 

The  Rev.  Dr.  C.  A.  Bartol,  Miss  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody,  President  Noah  Porter  of  Yale,  Mrs. 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  Mr.  John  Albee,  Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney,  Mr.  George  P.  Lathrop,  Dr.  Rowland 
G.  Hazard,  President  James  McCosh  of  Princeton,  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  Kedney,  President  J.  H. 
Seelye  of  Amherst,  Mr.  David  A.  Wasson. 

Further  announcements  will  be  made  in  the  early  spring  of  1883. 

For  the  Faculty, 


Concord,  Mass.,  Dec.  1,  1882. 


F.  B.  SAKBORN,  Secretary. 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  CONCORD  SUMMER 

AN  HISTORICAL  AND 

TN  the  “Orchard  House”  in  Concord, 
Mass.,  in  the  room  now  the  study  of 
Dr.  William  T.  Harris,  began  on  July  15, 
1879,  the  first  term  of  the  Concord  Sum- 
mer School  of  Philosophy.  It  was  well 
attended  and  was  received  with  much 
favor,  more  even  than  had  been  expected 
for  so  novel  an  enterprise.  As  a result, 
more  ample  accommodations  were  secured 
for  1880.  Upon  the  hillside,  only  a few 
steps  from  the  “Orchard  House,”  was 
erected  the  plain  but  convenient  structure 
known  as  “Hillside  Chapel.”  For  this 
purpose  was  taken  a part  of  a fund  of  a 
thousand  dollars  given  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Thompson  of  New  York  City'  for  the  gen- 
eral use  of  the  school.  An  audience  of  a 
hundred  and  fifty  can  be  accommodated  in 
the  chapel,  and  among  the  ornaments 
within  are  busts  of  Plato,  Pestalozzi,  Ralph 
Waldo  Emerson  and  A.  Bronson  Alcott.  A 
mask  of  Anaxagoras  hangs  upon  the  wall, 
and  over  the  mantel  is  an  engraving  of  the 
“School  of  Athens.”  Other  engravings 
and  photographs,  which  are  changed  from 
time  to  time,  complete  the  list.  Upon  a low 
platform,  in  a wide  alcove,  stands  the  table 
at  which  the  lecturers  sit.  Movable  camp 
chairs  and  unpainted  wooden  chairs,  ar- 
ranged rather  for  comfort  than  in  geo- 
metrical figures,  furnish  the  seats  of  the 
audience. 

The  “Orchard  House”  was  for  many 
years  the  home  of  Mr.  Alcott.  Here  is 
the  chamber  where  Louisa  M.  Alcott’s 
“ Little  Women”  was  written  ; here  are  the 
scenes  haunted  by  the  “Little  Women” 
and  “Little  Men”;  here  is  the  chamber 
occupied  by  May  Alcott  with  her  sketches 


SCHOOL  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

DESCRIPTIVE  SKETCH. 

of  Flaxman’s  graceful  figures,  still  sacredlj' 
preserved  by  Dr.  Harris,  as  they  cover 
doors,  panels,  window-sills  and  casings. 
Down-stairs  is  the  room  once  used  for  her 
study,  whose  upper  part  was  cut  off  for  a 
room  for  the  “ Little  Men.”  Under  this 
roof  are  joined  two  houses,  — one  two  hun- 
dred years  old  and  the  other  one  hundred 
and  fifty.  Next  to  this  house  comes,  on  the 
road  to  Lexington,  the  house  which  was  for- 
merly the  home  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne, 
“The  Wayside,”  and  is  now  occupied 
bi^  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  George  Parsons 
Lathrop. 

The  officers  of  the  school  from  the  begin- 
ning have  been  Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott, 
dean,  Mr.  S.  H.  Emery,  Jr.,  director,  and 
Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn,  secretary.  These 
three,  with  Dr.  William  T.  Harris  and  Dr. 
II.  K.  Jones,  constitute  the  faculty.  Dur- 
ing the  lectures  the  speaker  sits  at  the 
table  ; Mr.  Emery  calls  the  company  to 
order,  presides  during  the  discussion  which 
follows  for  an  hour  or  more  after  the  lec- 
ture, and  declares  the  session  ended.  The 
discussion  is  in  a friendly  tone,  and  bitter 
argument  is  unknown.  Opinions  are  of- 
fered and  sustained  by  reasons,  but  no 
attempt  is  made  to  reach  a verdict. 

In  arranging  lectures  for  a term  the 
faculty  endeavor  to  preserve,  but  within 
limits,  however,  which  permit  much  free- 
dom, a unity  in  the  philosophical  courses. 
Single  lectures  are  then  introduced  in 
order  to  show  the  connection  of  philos- 
ophy with  literature,  art  and  nature.  No 
lecturer  is  supposed  to  conform  his  ideas 
to  what  may  be  said  by  others,  and  there 
is  no  “Concord  School”  of  philosophy, 


IO 


The  Concord  Summer  School  of  Philosophy 


except  that  the  lecturers  generally  agree 
in  an  utter  repudiation  of  materialism  and 
in  maintaining  the  existence  of  a personal, 
self-conscious,  spiritual  cause  above  the 
material  universe.  Each  lecturer  is  re- 
sponsible for  his  own  opinions  only. 

During  the  four  summer  terms  lectures 
have  been  delivered  (or  read  for  the 
author)  by  men  and  women,  of  not  only 
local  but  of  cosmopolitan  reputation. 
Among  the  lecturers  of  previous  years 
who  did  not  lecture  at  the  school  in  1882 
have  been  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Profes- 
sor Benjamin  Peirce  of  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, the  Rev.  Dr.  Frederic  H.  Hedge, 
President  Noah  Porter  of  Yale  College, 
Dr.  Elisha  Mulford,  President  John  Bas- 
com  of  the  University  of  Wisconsin,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  John  Steinfort  Kedney  of  the 
Seabury  Divinity  School  at  Faribault, 
Minn.,  Professor  George  S.  Morris  of  the 
Johns  Hopkins  and  Michigan  universities, 
Mr.  Denton  J.  Snider,  Mr.  Thomas  Went- 
worth Higginson,  Mr.  David  A.  Wasson, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  P.  Peabody  of  Har- 
vard University,  Mr.  Edmund  C.  Stedman 
(a  poem),  the  Rev.  Dr.  John  W.  Mears  of 
Hamilton  College,  the  Rev.  William  H. 
Channing  of  London,  England,  and  Mr.  H. 
G.  O.  Blake,  Thoreau’s  friend  and  literary 
executor. 

The  best  indication  of  what  the  school 
has  done  prior  to  1882  can  be  seen  from  a 
glance  through  the  names  of  the  lecturers 
and  their  subjects,  which  is  shown  in  the 
following  programmes  of  the  courses  in 
the  three  preceding  years  : — 

First  Year’s  Programme. 

Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott. — 1.  Welcome,  and 
plan  of  future  conversations.  2.  The 
Powers  of  the  Person  in  the  descending 
scale.  3.  The  same  in  the  ascending  scale. 
4.  Incarnation.  5.  The  Powers  of  Per- 
sonality in  detail.  6.  The  Origin  of  Evil. 
7.  'Phe  Lapse  into  Evil.  8.  The  Return 
from  the  Lapse  (the  Atonement).  1).  Life 
Eternal.  10.  Valedictory. 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris.  — 1.  How  Philosophi- 
cal Knowing  differs  from  all  other  forms 


of  Knowing;  the  Five  Intentions  of  the 
mind.  2.  The  discovery  of  the  First  Prin- 
ciple and  its  relation  to  the  Universe.  3. 
Fate  and  Freedom.  4.  The  conscious  and 
unconscious  First  Principle  in  relation  to 
human  life.  5.  The  Personality  of  God. 
6.  The  Immortality  of  the  Soul.  7.  Physi- 
ological Psychology.  8.  The  method  of 
study  of  Speculative  Philosophy.  9.  Art, 
Religion  and  Philosophy  in  relation  to  each 
other  and  to  man.  10.  The  Dialectic. 

Mrs.  Ednaii  D.  Cheney.  — 1.  The  general 
subject  of  Art.  2.  Greek  Art.  3.  Early 
Italian  Art.  4.  Italian  Art.  5.  Michael 
Angelo.  6.  Spanish  Art.  7.  German  Art. 
8.  Albert  Purer.  9.  French  Art.  10. 
Contemporaneous  Art. 

Dr.  Hiram  K.  .Tones.  — 1.  General  content  of 
the  Platonic  Philosophy.  2.  The  Apology 
of  Socrates.  3.  The  Platonic  idea  of 
Church  and  State.  4.  The  Immortality  of 
the  Soul.  5.  Reminiscence  as  related  to 
the  Pre-existence  of  the  Soul.  6.  Pre- 
existence. 7.  The  Human  Body.  8.  The 
Republic.  9.  The  Material  Body.  10. 
Education. 

Mr.  David  A.  Wasson. — 1.  Social  Genesis 
and  Texture.  2.  The  Nation.  3.  Indi- 
vidualism as  a Political  Principle.  4. 
Public  Obligation.  5.  Sovereignty.  0. 
Absolutism  crowned  and  uncrowned.  7. 
Representation.  8.  Rights.  9.  The  Mak- 
ing of  Freedom.  10.  The  Political  Spirit 
of  ’70. 

Professor  Benjamin  Peirce.  — 1.  Ideality  in 
Science.  2.  Cosmogony. 

Mr.  Thomas  W.  Higginson.  — 1.  The  Birth  of 
American  Literature.  2.  Literature  in  a 
Republic. 

Mr.  Thomas  Davidson.  — 1.  The  History  of 
Athens  as  revealed  in  its  topography  and 
monuments.  2.  The  same,  continued. 

Mr.  Raleii  Waldo  Emerson.  — Memory. 

Mr.  Franklin  B.  Saniiorn.  — 1.  Social  Sci- 
ence. 2.  Philanthropy  and  Public  Chari- 
ties. 

Rev.  Dr.  Cyrus  A.  Bartol.  — Education. 

Mr.  Harrison  G.  O.  Blake.  — Selections  from 
Thoreau’s  Manuscripts. 

Second  Year’s  Programme. 

Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott. — Five  Lectures  on 
Mysticism:  ,1.  St.  John  the  Evangelist. 
2.  Plotinus.  3.  Tauler  and  Eckhart.  4. 
Belimen.  5.  Swedenborg.  Mr.  Alcott  also 
delivered  the  Salutatory  and  Valedictory. 


The  Concord  Summer 


Dr.  Hiram  K.  Jones.  — Five  Lectures  ou  The 
Platonic  Philosophy,  and  five  on  Platonism 
in  its  Relation  to  Modern  Civilization  : 1. 

Platonic  Philosophy ; Cosmologic  and  The- 
ologic  Outlines.  2.  The  Platonic  Psy- 
chology ; The  Dannon  of  Socrates.  3. 
The  Two  Worlds,  and  the  Twofold  Con- 
sciousness ; The  Sensible  and  the  Intel- 
ligible. 4.  The  State  and  Church ; Their 
Relations  and  Correlations.  5.  The  Eter- 
nity of  the  Soul,  and  its  Pre-existence.  G. 
The  Immortality  and  the  Mortality  of  the 
Soul;  Personality  and  Individuality;  Me- 
tempsychosis. 7.  The  Psychic  Body  and 
the  Material  Body  of  Man.  8.  Education 
and  Discipline  of  Man;  The  Uses  of  the 
World  we  Live  in.  9.  The  Philosophy  of 
Law.  10.  The  Philosophy  of  Prayer,  and 
the  “ Prayer  Gauge.” 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris. — Five  Lectures  on 
Speculative  Philosophy,  viz. : 1.  Philo- 

sophic Knowing.  2.  Philosophic  First  Prin- 
ciples. 3.  Philosophy  and  Immortality. 
4.  Philosophy  and  Religion.  5.  Philoso- 
phy and  Art.  Five  Lectures  on  the  His- 
tory of  Philosophy,  viz.  : 1.  Plato.  2. 

Aristotle.  3.  Kant.  4.  Ficlitc.  5. 
Hegel. 

Rev.  John  S.  Kedney,  D.D.  — Four  Lectures 
on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Beautiful  and 
Sublime. 

Mr.  Denton  J.  Snider. — Five  Lectures  on 
Shakespeare:  1.  Philosophy  of  Shakes- 

pearean Criticism.  2.  The  Shakespearean 
World.  3.  Principles  of  Characterization 
in  Shakespeare.  4.  Organism  of  the  In- 
dividual Drama.  5.  Organism  of  the  Uni- 
versal Drama. 

Rev.  William  H.  Ciianning. — Four  Lectures' 
on  Oriental  and  Mystical  Philosophy  : 1. 

Historical  Mysticism.  2.  Man’s  Fourfold 
Being.  3.  True  Buddhism.  4.  Modern 
Pessimism. 

Mrs.  Ednaii  D.  Cheney.  — 1.  Color.  2.  Early 
American  Art. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe.  — Modern  Society. 

Mr.  John  Albee.  — 1.  Figurative  Language. 
2.  The  Literary  Art. 

Mr.  Franklin  B.  Sanborn.  — The  Philosophy 
of  Charity. 

Dr.  Elisha  Mulford.  — 1.  The  Personality  of 
God.  2.  Precedent  Relations  of  Religion 
and  Philosophy  to  Christianity. 

Mr.  Harrison  G.  O.  Blake.  — Readings  from 
Thoreau’s  Manuscripts. 

Rev.  Dr.  Cyrus  A.  Bartol.  — God  in  Nature. 


School  of  Philosophy.  1 1 


Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  P.  Peabody.  — Conscience 
and  Consciousness. 

Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson.  — • Aristocracy. 
Rev.  Dr.  Frederic  H.  Hedge.  — Ghosts  and 
Ghost-seeing. 

Mr.  David  A.  Wasson.  — 1.  Philosophy  of  His- 
tory. 2.  The  same. 

In  place  of  the  expected  lecture  of 
Professor  Benjamin  Peirce,  who  was  too 
ill  to  be  present,  there  was  a coirversation 
on  Hawthorne. 

Third  Year’s  Programme. 

Dr.  William  T.  Harris.  — First  Course, — 
Philosophical  Distinctions.  1.  Philosophy 
Distinguished  from  Opinion  or  Fragment- 
tary  Observation;  The  Miraculous  vs.  The 
Mechanical  Explanation  of  Things.  2. 
Nominalism  of  Locke  and  Hume;  Panthe- 
istic Realism  of  Hobbes,  Spinoza,  Comte 
and  Spencer  as.  the  Realism  of  Christianity. 
3.  The  Influence  of  Nature  upon  the  Hu- 
man Mind ; the  Emancipation  of  the  Soul 
from  the  Body.  4.  Sense-Impressions 
aud  Recollections  vs.  Memory  and  Refiec 
tion ; Animal  Cries  and  Gestures  ts.  Hu- 
man Language.  5.  The  Metaphysical 
Categories  Used  bjr  Natural  Science,  — 
Thing,  Fact,  Atom,  Force,  Law,  Final 
Cause  or  Design,  Correlation,  Natural  Se- 
lection, Reality,  Potentiality  and  Actuality. 
Dr.  Harris. — Second  Course,  — Hegel’s  Phi- 
losophy. 1.  Hegel’s  Doctrine  of  Psychol- 
ogy and  Logic ; his  Dialectic  Method  and 
System.  2.  Hegel’s  Doctrine  of  God  and 
the  World,  — Creator  and  Created.  3. 
Relations  of  Kant  and  Hegel.  4.  Hegel’s 
Distinction  of  Man  from  Nature;  Two 
Kinds  of  Immortality,  that  of  the  Species 
and  that  of  the  Individual.  5.  Hegel’s 
Doctrine  of  Providence  in  History ; Asia 
vs.  Europe  as  furnishing  the  contrast  of 
Pantheism  and  Christianity.  6.  Hegel’s 
Theory  of  Fine  Arts  and  Literature  as 
reflecting  the  development  of  Man’s  Spir- 
itual Consciousness. 

Dr.  Hiram  K.  Jones. — First  Course,  — The 
Platonic  Philosophy.  1.  The  Platonic 
Cosmology,  Cosmogony,  Physics  and  Met- 
aphysics. 2.  Myth  ; The  Gods  of  the  Greek 
Mythology;  The  Ideas  and  Principles  of 
their  Worship,  Divine  Providence,  Free 
Will  and  Fate.  3.  Platonic  Psychology. 
The  Idea  of  Conscience;  The  Damion  of 
Socrates.  4.  The  Eternity  of  the  Soul. 


12  The  Concord  Summer  School  of  Philosophy. 


and  its  Pre-existence.  5.  The  Immortality 
of  the  Soul,  and  the  Mortality  of  the  Soul; 
Personality  and  Individuality;  Metemp- 
sychosis. 

Dr.  Jones.  — Second  Course,  — Platonism  in 
its  Relation  to  Modern  Civilization.  1. 
The  Social  Genesis ; The  Church  and  the 
State.  2.  The  Education  and  Discipline 
of  Man ; The  Uses  of  the  World  we  Live 
in.  3.  The  Psychic  Body  and  the  Material 
Body  of  Man;  The  Christian  Resurrec- 
tion. 4.  The  Philosophy  of  Law.  5. 
The  Philosophy  of  Prayer,  and  the  “Prayer 
Gauge.” 

Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott.  — Salutatory,  Vale- 
dictory, and  Pive  Lectures  on  the  Phi- 
losophy of  Life. 

Mr.  Denton  J.  Snider. —Five  Lectures  on 
Greek  Life  and  Literature. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe.  — 1.  Philosophy  in 
Europe  and  America.  2.  The  Results  of 
Kant. 

Mrs.  Ednah  D.  Cheney.  — 1.  The  Relation  of 
Poetry  to  Science. 

Rev.  J.  S.  Kedney,  D.D.  — Three  Lectures  on 
The  Philosophic  Groundwork  of  Ethics. 

Mrs.  Amalia  J.  Hathaway.  — Schopenhauer. 

President  John  Bascom.  — Freedom  of  the 
Will. 

Mr.  Edwin  D.  Mead.  — Philosophy  of  Fichte. 

Mr.  S.  H.  Emery,  Jr.  — System  in  Philos- 
ophy. 

Rev.  F.  H.  Hedge,  D.D.  — A Lecture  on  Kant. 

Professor  George  S.  Morris. — A Lecture  on 
Kant. 

Mr.  F.  B.  Sanborn.  — 1.  Roman  Literature. 
2.  English  and  German  Literature.  3. 
American  Literature  and  Life. 

Mr.  John  Ai.bee.  — 1.  Faded  Metaphors.  2. 
The  same. 

Rev.  Dr.  C.  A.  Bartol. — The  Transcendent 
Faculty  in  Man. 

Dr.  Elisha  Mulford.  — The  Philosophy  of 
the  State. 

Dr.  Rowland  G.  Hazard.  — Philosophical 
Character  of  Channing. 

Mr.  H.  G.  O.  Blake.  — Reading  from  Thoreau’s 
Manuscripts. 

President  Noaii  Porter.  — A Lecture  on  Kant. 

Professor  John  W.  Mears. — A Lecture  on 
Kant. 

Professor  John  Watson. — A Lecture  on  The 
Critical  Philosophy  in  its  Relation  to 
Realism  and  Sensationalism. 


Although  the  press  has  reported  the 
proceedings  of  the  school  from  the  begin- 
ing,  its  commendation  of  the  work  has 
been  more  general  and  its  criticism  less 
superficial  this  year  than  ever.  The  school 
is  evidently  regarded  with  more  respect, 
and  is  certainly  winning  favorable  consid- 
eration. 

“ Harper’s  Weekly,”  in  the  issue  of 
August  19,  said:  “Exactly  what  we 

are  about,  what  is  the  value  of  our  civil- 
ization, and  toward  what  ideals  we  are 
working,  are  things  not  so  clear  as 
they  might  be,  and  there  is  great  need 
of  keener  analysis  and  more  careful 
thinkers  to  prevent  our  drifting  blindly  — 
to  prevent,  that  is,  not  by  obstructive 
conservatism,  but  by  progressive  com- 
prehension. To  educate  for  this  purpose, 
then,  is  another  object  of  the  school. 
In  order  to  know  what  to  teach  and  what 
to  receive  we  must  seek  through  philos- 
ophy the  one  central  principle  on  which 
the  world,  the  universe,  rests.  Then  we 
have  to  trace  this  back  again  from  that, 
through  all  its  manifestations  in  religion, 
government,  literature,  art,  science  and 
manners.  This  is  manifestly  a large  job, 
and  the  Concord  School  does  not  expect 
to  carry  it  out  so  that  it  will  never  have 
to  be  done  again,  but  rather  to  set  people 
in  the  right  path,  so  that  they  can  keep 
on  doing  it  forever.  At  a time  when  Ger- 
many itself  is  overpowered  by  the  in- 
fluence of  Mill,  Spencer,  and  Darwin,  and 
the  genius  of  materialism  is  getting  so 
strong  a hold  everywhere,  it  is  interesting 
to  find  that  the  Concord  School  reasserts 
with  breadth  and  penetration  the  su- 
premacy of  mind But  it  must 

not  be  supposed  that  the  school  is  hostile 
to  science  : on  the  contrary,  it  approves 
and  heartily  sympathizes  with  it  in  its 
great  work,  which,  properly  regarded,  it 
considers  tributary  to  the  highest  ends  of 
existence.” 


THE  CONCORD  LECTURES. 


First  Day,  — Jcjly  17. 

SALUTATORY  ADDRESS  TO  THE  SCHOOL. 

BY  AMOS  BRONSON  ALCOTT.1 


ny/TR.  ALCOTT  for  the  fourth  time  de- 
-Ay-L  livered  the  salutatory  address  at  the 
opening  of  the  Summer  School  of  Philos- 
ophy. He  welcomed  the  audience  to  the 
pleasant  town  and  to  the  mental  delights 
of  Hillside  Chapel.  He  spoke  of  the  ab- 
sorbing beauties  of  divine  philosophy, — 
a subject  which  embraces  eternal  truth, 
righteousness  and  beauty.  These,  he 
said,  are  universal,  eternal  and  infinite, 
and  so  far  as  we  partake  of  them  we 
partake  of  infinity.  It  is  because  of  our 
limitations  that  we  cannot  fully  take  in 
all  these  beauties  which  lie  at  the  root  of 
life.  Beauty,  truth  and  good  are  the  same 
entities.  All  wise  souls  are  lovers  of  these  ; 
so  we  have  a trinity  in  the  sense  of  har- 
mony. 

Mr.  Alcott  said  to  his  listeners  that 
they  were  invited  to  attend  to  those  who, 
it  wras  hoped,  would  make  it  worth  their 
while  that  they  had  come.  There  were 
but  few  ornaments  at  the  chapel,  for  they 
believed  that  a holy  life  is  the  only  true 
beauty,  as  the  e3'e  itself,  not  what  it  sees, 
is  beautiful.  The  word  philosophy  in  many 
minds,  even  in  New  England,  has  acquired 
a certain  pretentious  meaning,  as  if  true 
philosophy  were  not  humble  and  beauti- 
ful, and  as  if  the  child  in  its  truth  and 

1 Amos  Bronson  Alcott  was  born  in  Wolcott,  Conn., 
Nov.  29,  1799.  He  has  long  been  noted  for  his  conversa- 
tions and  writings  on  transcendental  topics.  He  was  one 
of  the  principal  contributors  to  “ The  Dial,”  and  was  prin- 
cipal for  a few  years  of  a children’s  school  in  Boston  which 
he  conducted  in  connection  with  Miss  Elizabeth  P.  Peabody, 
His  works  include  the  “Record  of  Mr.  Alcott’s  School,” 
published  in  1835;  “ Conversations  with  Children  on  the 
Gospel,”  in  1836;  “Tablets”  in  1868;  “Concord  Days” 
in  1872;  “Table  Talk”  in  1877;  “New  Connecticut;  an 


purity  and  holiness  were  not  the  truest 
philosopher.  No  one  can  enter  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  if  he  does  not  receive  the 
truth  as  a child.  For  we  know  nothing 
save  by  inspiration. 

God  is  the  true  philosopher.  He  is 
philosophy  itself.  Hieroeles,  a commen- 
tator of  Pythagoras,  said:  “Philosophy 
is  the  purification  and  perfection  of  human 
nature — its  purification  because  it  delivers 
us  from  the  temerity  and  folly  that  proceed 
from  matter,  and  because  it  delivers  our 
affections  from  the  mortal  body,  and  its  per- 
fection because  it  makes  it  recover  its  orig- 
inal felicity  by  referring  it  to  the  likeness 
of  God.”  Philosophy  is  not  what  we  hear 
from  people  who  have  thought  just  enough 
to  imagine  that  they  know  everything. 
It  addresses  the  intellect,  the  affections, 
the  will.  It  has  in  its  heart  religion. 
A philosopher  is  a lover  of  truth.  In 
this  school  narrow  distinctions  will  not 
be  made,  but  the  broadest  meaning  will  be 
given  to  the  expressions  of  the  best  think- 
ers, and  additions  will  be  made  if  possible. 
Mr.  Alcott  read  the  words  of  St.  Paul  in 
relation  to  charity,  adding  that  hospitality 
is  another  name  for  charity ; that  it  means 
an  open,  candid  soul,  which  is  ready  to  re- 
ceive all  that  purifies,  ennobles  and  exalts. 

Autobiographical  Poem,”  in  1881;  “Sonnets  and  Canzo- 
nets” in  1882;  and  “Emerson;  an  estimate  of  his  Char, 
acter  and  Genius”  in  1882.  The  Concord  Summer 
School  of  Philosophy  is  the  outgrowth  of  an  idea  con- 
ceived by  him  in  1842.  Mr.  Alcott  is  noted  for  his  conver- 
sational powers,  and  has  many  times,  in  Boston  and 
elsewhere,  entertained  large  companies.  In  the  autumn 
and  winter  of  1880-81  he  made  a seven  months’  trip  through 
the  West,  preaching  every  Sunday,  and  in  pulpits  of  nearly 
every  Protestant  denomination. 


H 


The  Poet's  Countersign. 


THE  POET’S  COUNTERSIGN. 

AN  ODE  BY  FRANKLIN  BENJAMIN  SANBORN.1 

“ I grant,  sweet  soul,  tliy  lovely  argument 
Deserves  the  travail  of  a worthier  pen; 

Yet  what  of  thee  thy  poet  doth  invent. 

He  robs  thee  of,  and  pays  it  thee  again ; 

He  lends  thee  virtue,  — and  he  stole  that  word 
From  thy  behavior;  beauty  doth  he  give. 

And  found  it  on  thy  cheek;  he  can  afford 
No  praise  to  thee  but  what  in  thee  doth  live.” 

— Shakespeare. 

I. 

ACROSS  these  meadows,  o’er  the  hills, 

Beside  our  sleeping  waters,  hurrying  rills, 

Through  many  a woodland  dark  and  many  a bright  arcade, 
Where  out  and  in  the  shifting  sunbeams  braid 
An  Indian  mat  of  chequered  light  and  shade, — 

The  sister  seasons  in  their  maze, 

Since  last  we  wakened  here, 

From  hot  siesta  the  still  drowsy  year, 

Have  led  the  fourfold  dance  along  our  quiet  ways,— 

Autumn  apparelled  sadly  gay, 

Winter’s  white  furs  and  shortened  day, 

Spring’s  loitering  footstep,  quickened  at  the  last, 

And  half  the  affluent  summer  went  and  came, 

As  for  uncounted  years  the  same, — 

Ah  me  1 another  unreturning  spring  hath  passed. 


II. 


“ When  the  young  die,”  the  Grecian  mourner  said, 

“ The  springtime  from  the  year  hath  vanished” ; 

The  gray-haired  poet,  in  unfailing  youth, 

Sits  by5 * * *  the  shrine  of  Truth, 

Her  oracles  to  spell, 

And  their  deep  meaning  tell ; 

Or  else  he  chants  a bird-like  note 
From  that  thick-bearded  throat 

Which  warbled  forth  the  songs  of  smooth-cheeked  May 
Beside  youth’s  sunny  fountain  all  the  day ; 

Sweetly  the  echoes  ring 
As  in  the  flush  of  spring ; — 

At  last  the  poet  dies, 

The  sunny  fountain  dries, — 

The  oracles  are  dumb,  no  more  the  wood-birds  sing. 


1 Franklin  Benjamin  Sanborn  is  a graduate  of  Har- 

vard College,  of  the  class  of  1855.  He  is  widely  and 

best  known  throughout  the  country  for  bis  connection 

with  public  charities  and  for  his  writings  upon  the  man- 

agement of  charities,  the  care  of  the  insane,  and  kindred 

topics.  He  is  secretary  of  the  American  Social  Science 

Association,  inspector  of  public  charities  for  the  State  of 

Massachusetts,  and  has  for  a long  time  been  literary  cor- 


respondent at  Boston  of  the  11 1 * * *  Springfield  Republican.” 
He  is  the  present  literary  executor  of  Theodore  Parker, 
the  Unitarian  preacher,  and  has  many  of  his  papers.  In 
the  present  year  (1882)  he  has  written  a biography  of 
Henry  D.  Thorcau,  which  has  been  published  in  the 
“American  Men  of  Letters”  scries.  He  is  a resident  of 
Concord,  and  was  for  twenty-five  years  an  intimate  friend 
of  Mr.  Emerson. 


The  Poet's  Countersign. 


I5 


hi. 

Homer  forsakes  the  billowy  round 
Of  sailors  circling  o’er  the  island-sea ; 

Pindar,  from  Theban  fountains  and  the  mound 
Builded  in  love  and  woe  by  doomed  Antigone, 
Must  pass  beneath  the  ground ; 

Stout  JEschylus  that  slew  the  deep-haired  Mede 
At  Marathon,  at  Salamis,  and  freed 
Athens  from  Persian  thrall, 

Then  sung  the  battle  call,  — 

Must  yield  to  that  one  foe  he  could  nqt  quell ; 

In  Gela’s  flowery  plain  he  slumbers  well,1 
Sicilian  roses  bloom 
Above  his  nameless  tomb ; 

And  there  the  nightingale  doth  mourn  in  vain 
Bor  Bion,  too,  who  sung  the  Dorian  strain 
By  Arethusa’s  tide ; 

His  brother  swains  might  flute  in  Dorian  mood, 
The  bird  of  love  in  thickets  of  the  wood 
Sing  for  a thousand  years  his  grave  beside  — 

Yet  Bion  still  was  mute  — the  Dorian  lay  had  died. 


IV. 

The  Attic  poet  at  approach  of  age 

Laid  by  his  garland,  took  the  staff1  and  scrip, 

Bor  singing-robes  the  mantle  of  the  sage, 

And  taught  gray  wisdom  with  the  same  grave  lip 
That  once  had  carolled  gay 

Where  silver  flutes  breathed  soft  and  festal  harps  did  play; 
Young  Plato  sang  of  love  and  beauty’s  charm, 

AVhile  he  that  from  Stagira  came  to  hear, 

In  lyric  measures  bade  his  princely  pupil  arm, 

And  strike  the  Persian  tyrant  mute  with  fear. 

High  thought  doth  well  accord  with  melody, 

Brave  deed  with  Poesy, 

And  song  is  prelude  fair  to  sweet  Philosophy 
But  wiser  English  Shakespeare’s  noble  choice, 

Poet  and  sage  at  once,  whose  varied  voice 

Taught  beyond  Plato’s  ken,  yet  charming  every  ear,  — 

A kindred  choice  wras  his,  whose  spirit  hovers  here. 

V. 

Now  Avon  glides  through  Severn  to  the  sea, 

And  murmurs  that  her  Shakespeare  sings  no  more; 

Thames  bears  the  freight  of  many  a tribute  shore, 

But  on  those  banks  her  poet  bold  and  free 
That  stooped  in  blindness  at  his  humble  door, 

Yet  never  bowed  to  priest  or  prince  the  knee, 

Wanders  no  more  by  those  sad  sisters  led ; 

1 Athenian  iEschylus,  Eupliorion’s  son, 

Buried  in  Gela’s  field  these  words  declare: 

His  deeds  are  registered  at  Marathon, 

Known  to  the  deep-haired  Mede  who  met  him  there. 


— Greek  Anthology. 


i6 


The  Poet's  Countersign. 


Herbert  and  Spenser  dead 

Have  left  their  names  alone  to  him  whose  scheme 
Stiffly  endeavors  to  supplant  the  dream 
Of  seer  and  poet  with  mechanic  rule 

Learned  from  the  chemist’s  closet,  from  the  surgeon’s  tool. 
With  us  Philosophy  still  spreads  her  wing, 

And  soars  to  seek  Heaven’s  King, — 

Nor  creeps  through  charnels,  prying  with  the  glass 
That  makes  the  little  big,  — while  gods  unseen  may  pass. 

VI. 

Along  the  marge  of  these  slow-gliding  streams, 

Our  winding  Concord  and  the  wider  flow 
Of  Charles  by  Cambridge,  walks  and  dreams 
A throng  of  poets,  — tearfully  they  go  ; 

For  each  bright  river  misses  from  its  band 

The  keenest  eye,  the  truest  heart,  the  surest  minstrel  hand, — 

They  sleep  each  on  his  wooded  hill  above  the  sorrowing  laud. 

Duly  each  mound  with  garlands  we  adorn 

Of  violet,  lily,  laurel,  and  the  flowering  thorn, — 

Sadly  above  them  wave 

The  wailing  pine-trees  of  their  native  strand ; 

Sadly  the  distant  billows  smite  the  shore, 

Plash  in  the  sunlight,  or  at  midnight  roar,  — 

All  sounds  of  melody,  all  things  sweet  and  fair 
On  earth,  in  sea  or  air, 

Droop  and  grow  silent  by  the  poet’s  grave. 

VII. 

Yet  wherefore  weep?  Old  age  is  but  a tomb, 

A living  hearse,  slow  creeping  to  the  gloom 
And  utter  silence.  He  from  age  is  freed 
Who  meets  the  stroke  of  Death  and  rises  thence 
Victor  o’er  every  woe ; his  sure  defence 
Is  swift  defeat ; by  that  he  doth  succeed. 

Death  is  the  poet’s  friend,  — I speak  it  sooth ; 

Death  shall  restore  him  to  his  golden  youth, 

Unlock  for  him  the  portal  of  renown, 

And  on  Fame's  tablet  write  his  verses  down, 

For  every  age  in  endless  time  to  read. 

With  us  Death’s  quarrel  is  ; he  takes  away 

Joy  from  our  eyes  — from  this  dark  world  the  day, 

When  other  skies  he  opens  to  the  poet’s  ray. 

VIII. 

Lonely  these  meadows  green, 

Silent  these  warbling  woodlands  must  appear 
To  us,  by  whom  our  poet-sage  was  seen 
Wandering  among  their  beauties  year  by  year,  — 

Listening  with  delicate  ear 

To  each  fine  note  that  fell  from  tree  or  sky, 

Or  rose  from  earth  on  high  : 

Glancing  that  falcon  eye, 

In  kindly  radiance  as  of  some  young  star 
At  all  the  shows  of  Nature  near  and  far, 

Or  on  the  tame  procession  plodding  by 

Of  daily  toil  and  care,  — and  all  Life’s  pageantry; 


The  Poet's  Countersign. 


l7 


Then  darting  forth  warm  beams  of  wit  and  love, 

Wide  as  the  sun’s  great  orbit,  and  as  high  above 
These  paths  wherein  our  lowly  tasks  we  ply. 

IX. 

His  was  the  task  and  his  the  lordly  gift 

Our  eyes,  our  hearts,  bent  earthward,  to  uplift; 

He  found  us  chained  in  Plato’s  fabled  cave, 

Our  faces  long  averted  from  the  blaze 
Of  Heaven’s  broad  light,  and  idly  turned  to  gaze 
On  shadows,  flitting  ceaseless  as  the  wave 
That  dashes  ever  idly  on  some  isle  enchanted ; 

By  shadows  haunted 

We  sat,  — amused  in  youth,  in  manhood  daunted, 

In  vacant  age  forlorn,  — then  slipped  within  the  grave, 

The  same  dull  chain  still  clasped  around  our  shroud. 

These  captives,  bound  and  bowed, 

He  from  their  dungeon  like  that  angel  led, 

Who  softly  to  imprisoned  Peter  said, 

“ Arise  up  quickly ! gird  thyself  and  flee  ! ” 

We  wist  not  whose  the  thrilling  voice,  we  knew  our  souls  were  free. 

X. 

Ah ! blest  those  years  of  youthful  hope, 

When  every  breeze  was  zephyr,  every  morning  May ! 

Then,  as  we  bravely  climbed  the  slope 
Of  life’s  steep  mount,  we  gained  a wider  scope 
At  every  stair,  — and  could  with  joy  survey 
The  track  beneath  us,  and  the  upward  way ; 

Both  lay  in  light— round  both  the  breath  of  love 
Fragrant  and  warm  from  Heaven’s  own  tropic  blew ; 

Beside  us  what  glad  comrades  smiled  and  strove! 

Beyond  us  what  dim  visions  rose  to  view ! 

With  thee,  dear  Master,  through  that  morning  land 
We  journeyed  happy  ; thine  the  guiding  hand, 

Thine  the  far-looking  eye,  the  dauntless  smile ; 

Thy  lofty  song  of  hope  did  the  long  march  beguile. 

XI. 

Now  scattered  wide  and  lost  to  loving  sight 
The  gallant  train 
That  heard  thy  strain  ! 

’Tis  May  no  longer,  — shadows  of  the  night 
Beset  the  downward  pathway;  thou  art  gone, 

And  with  thee  vanished  that  perpetual  dawn 
Of  which  thou  wert  the  harbinger  and  seer. 

Yet  courage  ! comrades, — though  no  more  we  hear 

Each  other’s  voices,  lost  within  this  cloud 

That  time  and  chance  about  our  way  have  cast,  — 

Still  his  brave  music  haunts  the  hearkening  ear, 

As  ’mid  bold  cliffs  and  dewy  passes  of  the  Past. 

Be  that  our  countersign  ! for  chanting  loud, 

His  magic  song,  though  far  apart  we  go, 

Best  shall  we  thus  discern  both  friend  and  foe. 


i8 


Socrates  and  the  Pre-Socratic  Philosophy. 


SOCRATES  AND  THE  PRE-SOCRATIC  PHILOSOPHY. 

BY  WILLIAM  TORREY  HARRIS,  LL.D.1 


l_>HILOSOPHIC  knowing  is  to  be  dis- 
tinguished  from  ordinary  reflection 
through  the  fact  that  it  sets  up  one  prin- 
ciple as  the  explanation  of  the  world,  while 
mere  reflection  is  content  to  find  subordi- 
nate unities,  and  to  make  classifications 
and  generalizations.  Ordinary  science 
seeks  unities  and  tries  to  piece  together 
the  fragments  of  experience  and  to  trace 
facts  to  principles  ; but  philosophy  is  more 
ambitious,  and  undertakes  to  find  one  prin- 
ciple for  all  facts.  Say  what  we  will  of 
the  pride  of  the  human  intellect,  and  of 
the  desirability  of  humility,  we  find,  after 
all,  that  the  deepest  interest  of  the  human 
mind  lies  in  the  question  which  relates  to 
the  ultimate  principle.  The  subordinate 
principles  are  not  so  important,  — we  can 
appeal  from  them  to  the  higher ; but  the 
absolute  principle  of  all,  — that  is  some- 
thing that  concerns  the  origin  and  destiny 
of  all  human  beings.  In  this  respect  phi- 
losophy corresponds  to  religion,  and  both 
are  conversant  with  the  absolute  principle. 
Any  doctrine  that  teaches  us  something 
about  the  nature  of  the  first  principle, 
teaches  us  something  that  is  both  theo- 
retical and  practical.  We  not  only  find  in 
it  our  explanation  of  the  world,  but  we 

1 William  Torrey  Harris  was  born  in  North  Killingly, 
Conn.,  Sept.  10,  1835.  He  studied  at  Woodstock  (Conn.), 
■Worcester  (Mass.)  and  Phillips  (Andover)  academies. 
In  1854  he  entered  Yale  College,  and  at  the  end  of  his 
junior  year  he  removed  to  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  and  entered 
the  public  schools.  For  eight  years  following  1858  he  was 
principal  of  a public  school  in  that  city.,  For  two  years 
following  he  was  assistant  superintendent  of  schools.  In 
1866  he  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Philosophical  So- 
ciety of  St.  Louis.  In  1867  he  began  the  publication  of 
the  “Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy,”  and  has  been 
its  editor  ever  since.  The  next  year  he  was  made  super- 
intendent  of  schools  in  St.  Louis  and  held  the  position 
for  twelve  years.  In  1869  he  received  the  degree  of  A.  M. 
from  Y^alc  College,  and  in  1870  the  degree  of  LL.  D.  from 
the  State  University  of  Missouri.  In  1880  he  removed  to 
Concord,  Mass.,  where  he  has  lived  ever  since,  in  the 
Orchard  House,  which  was  formerly  owned  and  occupied 


find  in  it  also  our  guide  of  life.  If  the 
first  principle  is  an  unconscious,  blind 
force,  or  matter  of  some  sort,  then  the 
destiny  of  conscious  being  is  not  a high 
one.  If  the  first  principle  is  a conscious 
reason,  then  we,  who  are  conscious  reason 
too,  find  ourselves  in  its  image,  and  we 
have  the  “ form  of  eternity,”  as  Spinoza 
calls  it. 

The  interest  in  the  history  of  philosophy 
is  due  to  the  fact  recited.  The  struggle 
of  human  thought  with  this  problem  has 
proved  what  the  human  mind  can  do.  The 
study  of  its  history  is  a study  of  this  self- 
exposition of  mind.  It  is  possible  for  us 
to  see  some  order  of  genesis  or  evolution 
if  we  look  at  the  history  of  philosophy, 
just  as  we  discover  evolution  in  all  things 
that  have  a history.  If  a first  principle 
exists  at  all  it  must  be  an  energy  or  ac- 
tivity, because  it  is  the  origin  of  all  and 
that  on  which  all  depends.  Without  ac- 
tivity nothing  can  originate,  and  to  de- 
mand a first  principle  implies  that  one  has 
reached  the  idea  of  a self-active  being. 
The  principle  contains  all  that  flows  from 
it ; its  energy  holds  all  in  its  potentiality. 
The  principle  must  be  creative,  therefore  ; 
and  it  must  be  self-determined.  If  it  acts 

by  Mr.  Aleott.  He  has  delivered  many  public  addresses 
upon  educational  topics  in  the  Eastern,  Western  and 
Southern  States;  and  besides  these,  has  given  some  lec. 
tures  on  art  and  social  science.  He  edited  the  department 
of  philosophy  in  “Johnson’s  Cyclopaedia,”  and  wrote  forty 
of  the  articles  for  it.  In  1874  he  wrote  for  the  Bureau  of 
Education  a “Statement  of  the  Theory  of  Education  in 
the  United  States,”  for  use  at  the  Vienna  Exposition.  He 
has  been  for  years  chairman  of  the  educational  section  of 
the  American  Social  Science  Association,  and  has  pub- 
lished articles  bearing  on  social  science  in  the  reviews 
and  magazines.  In  1877  he  was  appointed  University 
Professor  of  the  Philosophy  of  Education  in  Washington 
University,  St.  Louis,  and  gave  for  three  years  annual 
courses  of  lectures  on  the  “ History  and  Philosophy  of 
Education.”  He  is  one  of  the  founders  of  the  Summer 
School  of  Philosophy. 


!9 


Socrates  and  the  Fre- 


on something'  else  — if  it  creates  a world 
out  of  some  already  existing  material  — 
then  it  is  not  the  only  first  principle,  but 
is  one  of  two  first  principles.  We  maybe 
quite  read}'  to  expect,  therefore,  that  in 
the  history  of  philosophy  we  shall  find,  at 
first,  a very  dim  consciousness  of  what  is 
implied  by  setting  up  an  absolute  principle, 
and  that  it  will  be  left  for  subsequent 
philosophers  to  discover,  one  after  another, 
what  belongs  to  a first  principle  from  the 
nature  of  the  case. 

The  history  of  philosophy  may  be  epit- 
omized by  saying  that  while  ordinary  ex- 
perience concerns  itself  with  a world  of 
dependent  things,  philosophy  tries  to  dis- 
cover what  belongs  to  the  independent. 
The  dependent  is  a fragment  of  something 
else  on  which  it  depends.  The  whole  or 
totality  includes  the  dependent  and  that 
on  which  it  depends.  One  set  of  laws  be- 
longs to  the  dependent  — that  is  to  say, 
the  laws  of  the  conditioned.  Very  differ- 
ent laws  concern  the  totality.  All  de- 
pendent being  is  determined  or  made  what 
it  is  by  something  external  to  it.  But  all 
independent  beings  or  totalities  must  be 
self-determined.  When  in  the  history  of 
philosophy  thinkers  have  reached  this 
insight,  that  the  absolute  is  self-deter- 
mined, we  find  at  once  an  arrival  at  the 
idea  of  a conscious  creator,  and  philosophy 
comes  into  harmony  with  spiritual  religion 
and  with  poetry.  Thus  in  the  history  of 
Greek  philosophy  we  find  at  first  only 
material  principles  set  up.  Thales  says 
that  water  is  the  origin  of  all.  Anaxi- 
mander first  used  the  word  ho/rj  or  “ first 
principle.”  He  looked  upon  all  things  as 
arising  from  this  first  principle  by  differen- 
tiation, and  he  thought  that  the  original 
principle  was  indeterminate  and  indiffer- 
ent. Anaximenes  held  that  air  is  the 
origin  of  all  things,  while  Heraclitus,  in 
search  of  some  material  energy,  appar- 


■Socratic  Philosophy. 

ently,  set  up  fire  as  the  first,  and  gave 
“becoming”  as  a general  name  to  the 
entire  process  of  creation.  All  things  are 
“becoming”  — that  is,  either  rising  to- 
wards fire  (and  life),  or  descending  from 
it  toward  earth  (and  death) . 

Pythagoras  and  his  followers  do  not  set 
up  a material  principle,  but  a sort  of  nu- 
merical ratio,  which  remains  the  same 
amid  all  change.  This  is  an  important 
breaking  off  from  the  crude  view  pre- 
sented in  the  Ionian  philosophers,  who 
thought  that  the  first  principle  must  be  a 
material  one.  The  Eleatics  take  a bold 
step  and  set  up  the  abstract  thought  of 
“pure  being”  as  their  principle.  Then 
Anaxagoras  announces  reason  as  the  high- 
est principle.  One  must  not  try  to  relate 
all  of  these  schools  one  to  another  in  time 
as  if  the  later  thinkers  all  labored  on  the 
work  of  their  predecessors,  although  in 
many  cases  the  work  of  the  later  is  a 
further  development  of  the  preceding.  But 
the  doctrine  of  Anaxagoras  did  in  many 
ways  influence  the  teachers  of  Athens,  and 
a school  of  sophists  arose.  Protagoras 
taught  that  man  is  the  measure  of  all 
things,  thus  holding  that  the  reason  of 
Anaxagoras  is  the  individual  reason  of 
each  man.  The  consequences  of  this  doc- 
trine were  negative.  Socrates  came  in  at 
this  point,  and  his  great  work  establishes 
reason  in  its  universal  sense  and  discrim- 
inates what  is  transitory  and  arbitrary  in 
the  intellect  from  its  insights  into  what  is 
necessary  and  true.  He  defines  the  good 
as  the  highest  principle.  Dialectics,  which 
had  begun  with  Eleatic  Zeno,  henceforth 
have  a great  significance  as  the  process 
of  eliminating  from  ideas  what  is  mere 
opinion,  and  preserving  the  truth. 

The  remainder  of  the  lecture  was  mostly 
taken  up  with  a discussion  of  the  life  and 
doctrines  of  Socrates,  and  especially  his 
idea  that  virtue  can  be  taught. 


20 


Outlines  of  Christian  Philosophy. 


Second  Day,  — July  18. 


PREMISES,  PREDICATIONS  AND  OUTLINES  OF  CHRISTIAN 

PHILOSOPHY. 

BY  HIRAM  K.  JONES,  M.D.1 


TDHILOSOPHY  Anglicised  may  be  said 
to  be  the  knowing  of  truth,  and  its 
application  in  the  relations  and  conduct  of 
human  life.  And  the  natural  history  of 
knowing,  or  the  searching  after  and  find- 
ing of  truth,  embraces  in  its  processes 
three  stages,  — (1)  sensuous  knowing,  (2) 
scientifical  knowing,  (3)  logical  knowing. 
The  comprehension  of  these  approximat- 
ing stages  of  knowing  as  but  the  several 
aspects  to  the  knower,  of  the  reality"  of  the 
natures  contemplated,  is  philosophic  knowl- 
edge, or  the  knowledge  of  their  truth ; 
their  truth  or  reality  being  the  sum  total 
of  their  essentiality,  their  actuality,  and 
their  phenomenality  as  the  knower.  Of 
all  knowledge  there  must  be  premised  a 
knower  and  a knowable,  a something  to  be 
known  by  the  knower.  In  our  case,  man 
is  the  knower,  and  the  world,  and  the 
soul,  and  God,  severally  and  wholly,  are 
the  subjects  of  quest.  In  the  preliminaries 
the  knower  is  the  foremost ; as  from  his 
points  of  view  must  be  seen  and  said  all 
that  can  be  said  of  the  knowable  and  of 
the  knower  and  of  knowledge. 

Let  it  then  be  premised  that  man  is  an 
essential  form  that  feels,  and  thinks,  and 
moves  himself  within  himself,  an  exist- 
ing entity,  — sentient,  cognitive,  motive, 
lie  feels,  he  thinks,  he  moves  ; in  his  fac- 
ulty of  sentience  he  becomes  conscious  of 

1 Hiram  K.  Jones,  M.D.,  LL  D.,  is  a native  of  Virginia, 
and  in  early  life  removed  to  Missouri.  He  graduated  at 
Illinois  College,  and  subsequently  removed  to  Jackson- 
ville, 111  , where  he  now  lives.  He  is  a trustee  of  Illinois 
College  at  Jacksonville,  and  received  the  degree  of  LL.D. 


all  that  is  knowable  to  him  in  all  the  range 
of  the  knowable ; and  in  his  faculty  of 
thinking  he  sees  all  that  he  is  conscious  of, 
and  in  his  faculty  of  motion  he  experiences, 
or  experiments,  all  things  whatsoever  that 
he  feels  and  thinks.  And  so  in  all  the 
spheres  or  orders  of  the  knowable,  he  knows 
byr  means  of  feeling  or  consciousness  and  byr 
means  of  thought  and  by  means  of  experi- 
ence all  together.  He  knows  phy’sics  by' 
means  of  consciousness  and  of  thought 
and  of  experimentation ; and  he  knows 
metaphysics,  or  actual  entity",  by"  means  of 
consciousness  and  thought  and  experience  ; 
and  he  knows  divinity  by"  means  of  feeling 
and  thinking  and  experience.  In  all  these 
subjects  which  he  may  know,  feeling  or  con- 
sciousness, alone,  is  not  a knowing  of  any- 
thing, and  thought,  alone  or  abstract,  is 
not  a knowing  of  anything,  and  experience 
alone  is  not  a knowing  of  anything  but 
by  means  of  sensation  and  thought  and 
experience  all  together  he  must  know  what- 
soever he  knows  — sensuously,  scientifi- 
cally" and  philosophically.  A man  cannot 
think  or  experience  or  know  of  any  subject 
of  which  he  is  not  conscious  ; he  cannot 
think  concerning  that  of  which  he  has  no  con- 
sciousness, nor  can  he  experiment  on  that 
of  which  he  has  neither  feeling  nor  thought ; 
and  a man  can  have  no  feeling  or  con- 
sciousness of  that  of  which  there  is  not  tact 

from  that  institution  in  1881.  He  is  president  of  the  Plato 
Club  in  Jacksonville,  and  author  of  numerous  papers  on 
Platonic  philosophy.  By  students  ol  Plato  ho  is  regarded 
as  the  leading  l’lutonist  in  this  country. 


Outlines  of  Christian  Philosophy. 


21 


and  touch ; and  hence  the  contents  of 
consciousness  of  every  sort  are  at  once 
the  range  and  limit  of  the  knowable  to 
man. 

But  there  can  be  no  tact  and  touch,  no 
sensibility  and  no  sensation  without  cor- 
poreality. Essential  form  and  corporeality 
must  be  distinguished.  All  corporeality 
is  related  to  a somewhat,  of  which  it  is 
corporeality  or  bod}',  as  shadow  to  sub- 
stance. Man,  the  thinker,  is  a spiritual 
form.  Only  spirit  feels,  and  thinks,  and 
moves,  and  knows  ; and  man  only  by  means 
of  corporeality.  And  man  feels  and  thinks 
and  moves  in  view  of  and  in  relation  to 
three  aspects  of  reality, — physics,  meta- 
physics and  divinity — by  means  of  three 
orders  of  corporeality  — as  instruments 
therein  respectively  of  the  three  orders  of 
knowing. 

These  three  orders  of  corporeality  pred- 
icated of  man’s  existence  are:  (1)  2aun 
>. Vvaixov  — a physical  and  material  body 
affirmed  of  all  mankind  ; (2)  t pv/i- 

y-6f  — a psychic  body  ; (3)  SCoua  Hvbvuutl- 
xup  — a spiritual  body,  affirmed  by7  the 
great  apostle  of  Christian  philosophy,  and 
by  others.  Man’s  consciousness  therefore 
is  distributed  according  to  a tripartite 
nature  in  the  constitution  of  his  organic 
existence.  In  that  he  has  physical  cor- 
poreality, he  has  consciousness  of  physics 
arid  outer  nature  ; in  that  he  has  psychic 
corporeality,  he  has  consciousness  of  meta- 
physics, an  inner  consciousness  of  mind, 
of  existing  entity,  actuality ; and  in  that 
he  has  a body  pneumatic,  he  has  conscious- 
ness of  the  forms  of  pure  spirit.  And 
here  only  do  we  behold  face  to  face  the 
veiled  enchantress,  the  mystic  presence  in 
the  miracle  of  all  life  and  all  knowledge, 
veiled  in  the  aspects  of  the  actual  and  the 
phenomenal.  And  it  is  exclusively  by 
virtue  of  the  touch  of  the  images  in  these 
sensoria,  and  their  reflections,  respec- 
tively,— that  man  is  conscious  of  na- 
ture, and  of  soul,  and  of  Deity,  without 
which  consciousness  it  has  been  said  he 


cannot  think  or  experience  or  know  any- 
thing of  these  subjects. 

And  now  in  the  second  place  concern- 
ing the  knowable  — that  which  man  may 
know.  First,  man  by  means  of  his  physi- 
cal organic  sensorium  feels  and  is  con- 
scious of  the  images  of  the  material  world, 
or  the  material  aspect  of  the  world  ; and 
by  means  of  his  psychical  organic  senso- 
rium he  feels  and  is  conscious  of  the 
impress,  the  image  of  the  immaterial 
world,  or  the  immaterial  aspect  of  the 
world.  And  thus,  in  the  outlook  of  the 
knower,  the  world  is  dualized  as  phys- 
ical and  metaphysical,  and  these  are  as- 
sumed grounds  of  the  knowing  of  matter 
and  of  mind.  But  again,  all  the  ages  of 
thought  have  premised  — and  it  m y be 
said  to  be  a necessity,  a law  of  pure 
thought  to  premise  — a third  sensorium  in 
the  constitution  and  existence  of  man. 
As  -a/tu  <I>v(riy.bv  grounds  a conscious- 
ness and  cognition  and  experience  ot 
nature  — that  which  is  without  the  knower  ; 
and  as  Z5>,uu  ifiv/iy.bv  grounds  a con- 
sciousness and  cognition  and  experience 
of  metaphysical  entity  — that  which  is 
within  the  knower ; so  also  does  Z'w 
Jlvfv>tuTr/.by  ground  a consciousness  and 
cognition  and  experience  of  divinity  — 
that  which  is  within  and  above  the  knower 
— pure  spirit.  And  this  consciousness  is 
the  ground  of  all  Divine  knowing  and  dis- 
course. 

In  these  three  grounds  — the  three  con- 
sciousnesses or  aspects  of  consciousness  of 
the  three  corporealities  — arise  the  cogni- 
tion of  three  orders  of  knowable  subjects  — 
nature’s  physical  phenomena,  existing  en- 
tit}T  or  mental  phenomena,  and  deity,  or 
physics,  metaphysics,  and  divinity.  Now, 
in  each  of  these  three  orders  of  knowable 
subject  must  be  applied  the  three  degrees 
or  stages  in  knowing  ; namely,  man  must 
know  nature  sensibly,  and  scientifically, 
and  logically ; and  he  must  know  actual 
entity  sensibly,  and  scientifically,  and  log- 
ically ; and  he  must  know  divinity  seusi- 


7 7 


Outlines  of  Christian  Philosophy. 


bly.  and  scientifically,  and  logically.  And 
again,  in  this  method  and  process  of  know- 
ing, neither  of  the  above  subjects  of  inves- 
tigation exists  without  the  others  — neither 
nature,  nor  soul,  nor  divinity  — and  there- 
fore nature  cannot  be  known  to  man  as  an 
extant  unrelated  to  man  and  to  Deity ; and 
man  cannot  be  known  to  man  as  an  actual 
being  unrelated  to  nature,  and  to  self, 
and  to  Deity  ; and  Deity  cannot  be  known 
to  man  as  abstracted  from,  unrelated  to, 
and  unmanifest  in  man  and  in  nature. 

And  again,  of  the  three  degrees  or  stages 
of  knowing,  namely,  sensuous,  scientifical, 
and  logical,  in  the  three  orders  of  know- 
able  subject,  physics,  metaphysics,  and 
divinity,  and  alike  in  the  three  subordi- 
nate and  elementary  processes  of  sensa- 
tion, intellection,  and  experimentation, 
the  second  does  not  invalidate,  but  can- 
cels and  conserves  the  first,  and  the  third 
does  not  invalidate,  but  cancels  and  con- 
serves the  second.  Thus  thought  does 
not  supersede  nor  abrogate,  but  it  resolves 
and  conserves  the  import  and  witness  of 
sensation ; and  experience  does  not  su- 
persede nor  confute  the  witness  of  thought, 
but  concretes  and  identifies  the  true  im- 
port of  sensation  and  thought.  And  so, 
also,  scientifical  knowing  does  not  super- 
sede and  abrogate  the  conclusions  of  com- 
mon sense,  but  it  conserves  and  utilizes 
common  sense  ; and  logical  knowing  does 
not  supersede  or  reject  common  sense 
and  science,  but  it  comprehends  them  as 
accessory  method  and  instrument.  And, 
by  the  way^,  it  may  be  here  noted  that 
philosophic  knowledge  is  the  knowing 
truly  these  several  subjects  in  their  char- 
acteristics and  unities  and  relations,  as 
they  are  comprehended  in  their  primal 
unity,  their  universality  — known  as  one, 
and  at  the  same  time  as  several  and  many  ; 
for,  as  before  said,  neither  of  the  several 
or  the  many  is,  or  is  extant  or  knowable, 
alone  and  unrelated  to  the  others,  or  to 
the  primal  whole  in  the  first,,  and  the 
absolute  source  and  idea  of  the  universe. 


The  annals  of  the  human  mind  through 
all  the  historic  ages  are  generalized  as 
three  orders  of  subjects  knowable  to  man  ; 
namely,  nature,  man  and  Deity  ; and  as 
three  orders  or  aspects  of  > consciousness 
in  the  constitution  of  man,  and  these  are 
physical,  psychical  and  pneumatical;  and 
these  as  the  three  grounds  of  three  reflec- 
tions ; and  these  the  grounds  of  three 
orders  of  knowing,  namely  : (1)  the  knowl- 
edge of  physics,  and  matter  from  the  im- 
ages thereof  reflected  in  the  physical  sen- 
sorium  ; (2)  the  knowledge  of  actual  entity 
from  the  images  and  impressions  thereof 
as  reflected  in  the  psychical  sensorium  ; 
and  (3)  the  knowledge  of  divinity  from 
the  image  and  likeness  thereof  as  reflected 
in  the  pneumatic  sensorium.  And  each 
of  these  degrees  of  knowing  or  approx- 
imating truth  is  alike  founded  in  sensation, 
and  becomes  knowing  by  the  means  and 
process  of  thinking  and  experiencing  ; and  a 
man  cannot  be  conscious  of  that  of  which 
he  has  no  sensorium  and  no  sensation ; 
and  he  cannot  know  anything  of  that  of 
which  he  lias  no  consciousness. 

Wherefore  it  is  by  means  of  the  content 
of  consciousness,  that  man  the  knower  is 
related  to  the  knowable;  namely,  to  the 
world  in  its  material  and  its  immaterial 
aspects,  and  to  its  unity  and  source  in  the 
Deity,  and  the  primal,  archetypal  ideas, 
which  are  contemplated  as  above  the  world  ; 
and  so  the  threefold  aspect  of  the  universe 
is  apprehensible  and  cognizable  to  man  by 
means  of  a tripartite  conformation  in  his 
organic  existence.  It  is  affirmed  that 
through  all  the  ages  of  humanity  man  has 
existed  on  this  planet  in  this  tripartite 
organic  relation  — related  to  the  three 
aspects  of  the  system  of  the  universe  by 
means  of  the  three  corporeal  conditions  of 
consciousness  ; and  in  all  ages  therefore 
man  has  been  conscious  of  nature  and  of 
soul  and  of  God,  and  has  sought  to 
know  these  natures  which  impress  his  sen- 
soi  ia,  and  the  means  and  process  of 
knowing  have  been  sensation  and  thought 


Outlines  of  Christian  Philosophy. 


23 


and  expei  ience.  Moreover,  the  faculty  of 
sentience  is  prior,  and  the  faculty’  of 
thought  and  motion  posterior  in  logical 
order.  Man  does  not  first  think  tree  or 
animal  shape,  and  then  fumble  about 
till  he  finds  one,  but  he  is  first  sentient  of 
these  forms  by  their  image  and  impress 
upon  his  physical  sensorium,  and  there- 
upon arise  the  motion  and  form  of  his 
thought  and  science  concerning  those  na- 
tures. And  likewise  in  his  psychical  and 
spiritual  sensoria  man  does  not  first  think 
essence,  soul,  God,  and  then  grope 
around  in  the  limbo  of  ignorance  and  inex- 
perience until  he  has  found  one  of  these 
forms,  but  he  is  first  sentient  of  their  form 
by  means  of  the  impress  and  reflection  of 
the  images  of  these  natures  in  his  psychic 
and  pneumatic  sensoria  ; and  toward  these 
impressions  spring  the  motion  and  form  of 
his  thought  and  knowledge  concerning 
super-physical  and  super-essential  natures. 

And  this  is  the  rudiment  and  process  of 
human  knowledge,  whether  physical,  met- 
aphysical, or  theistical  and  spiritual ; and 
it  has  perpetually  its  beginning  and  proc- 
ess in  the  constitution  of  the  soul ; and 
accordingly'  there  never  was  a human  gen- 
eration on  this  planet  that  was  not  sen- 
tient of  God  and  of  soul  and  of  physics 
and  matter,  and  that  did  not  think  of  these 
themes,  and  that  did  not  experience  these 
natures,  from  this  same  ground  of  thought 
and  knowledge,  namely,  the  sentient  prin- 
ciple— consciousness,  external  and  inter- 
nal— consciousness  of  the  image,  physi- 
cal, psychical,  and  pneumatical.  And 
therefore  in  every  historic  age  man  has 
applied  his  faculties  and  powers  in  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge  about  the  three  as- 
pects of  the  universe  to  which  he  is  organ- 
ically and  vitally  related,  and  has  applied 
them  as  the  successive  degrees  or  stages 
of  knowing,  namely,  sensational  knowing, 
W’hich  respects  and  cognizes  the  image, 
and  scientifical  knowing,  which  respects 
and  cognizes  a mental  inference  or  induc- 
tion from  the  image,  and  logical  knowing. 


which  respects  and  cognizes  the  essential 
form,  and  philosophic  knowing,  which 
comprehends  these  aspects  of  phenome- 
nality  and  actuality  and  essentiality  in 
their  unity  as  the  reality’. 

This  process,  through  the  sensuous  im- 
age, and  the  scientific  induction,  and  the 
logical  dialectic,  is  a law  of  thought,  a law 
of  mind,  the  principle  of  the  natural  history 
of  mind  in  this  planet  — in  every  historic 
generation  the  most  ancient  and  the  most 
modern  alike  — and  especially’  so  if  the 
soul  should  be  found  to  be  a form  immor- 
tal and  eternal,  as  well  as  mortal  and  mu- 
table in  its  temporal  apparitions,  and 
hence  only'  the  permanent  and  the  tran- 
sient, the  constant  and  the  variable  in  the 
elements  of  all  history’.  For  if  there  be 
no  factor  immutable  and  eternal  in  the 
soul,  there  can  be  no  permanent  element 
in  the  history  of  humanity.  The  race  can 
then  have  no  immortality’,  no  personal 
identity  in  the  account  of  its  successive 
ages.  But  what  is  our  conception  of  the 
great  historic  age  of  humanity’?  Alike,  as 
our  view  point  is  within  it,  or  without  it, 
it  transcends  in  its  magnitudes  and  con- 
tents the  easy  comprehension  and  con- 
quest of  the  human  intellect.  As  we  must 
many  times  have  crossed  and  surveyed 
the  vast  ocean  ere  the  immensity  of  the 
expanse  be  conceived  in  the  measures  of 
the  mind ; so,  much  speculation,  much 
knowledge,  much  thought,  and  much  sym- 
pathetic appreciation  result  in  revealing  to 
the  disciple  of  wisdom,  that  the  magnitude 
and  content  of  the  great  historic  age  of 
human  life,  with  its  thought,  its  experi- 
ences, and  its  achievements,  transcend  the 
measures  and  comprehension  of  the  indi- 
vidual mind. 

There  are  three  forms  or  measures  of 
history  — that  of  the  lifetime  of  the  indi- 
vidual ; that  of  the  lifetime  of  the  nation- 
ality ; and  that  of  the  lifetime  of  the  dis- 
pensation or  faith.  The  lifetime  of  the 
commonwealth  embraces  many’  individuals, 
and  the  lifetime  of  the  faith  embraces  many’ 


24 


Present  -Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


nationalities  ; and  in  each  of  these  forms, 
and  in  their  whole,  their  unity,  exists  the 
the  idea  of  universal  history,  which  is  the 
comprehension  of  the  two  factors  — human 
experience  and  divine  providence.  And 
in  this  world  of  the  individual  life,  and 
the  social  life,  and  the  religious  life  of 
man,  conjoined  as  it  ever  is  with  the  prov- 
idence divine,  dissympathy  and  deprecia- 
tion are  the  folly  and  the  vice  of  igno- 
rance and  bigotiy ; and  ignorance  and 
bigotry  are  in  all  things  antitheses  to  lib- 
erated thought  or  liberal  culture.  And 
accordingly,  all  opinion,  all  thinking, 
limited  to  conceptions  of  the  experiences 
of  the  particular  individual  and  the  par- 
ticular nationality  and  the  particular  faith, 
must  be  partial  and  comprehensive  of 


the  idea  and  first  principle  of  the  his- 
toric movement  of  the  world. 

The  remainder  of  Dr.  Jones’s  lecture 
was  a presentation  of  the  complex  civiliza- 
tion of  ancient  India,  of  its  advanced 
intellectual  development,  and  of  its  high 
standing  in  philosophy.  This  was  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  use  of  India  as  illus- 
tration and  proof  of  the  antiquity  of  great 
human  achievements  which  is  made  in 
subsequent  lectures.  He  closed  with  the 
following  quotation  : 

“ This  is  the  moral  of  all  human  tales  ; 

’Tis  but  the  same  rehearsal  of  the  past  — 
First  freedom  and  then  glory;  when  that  fails, 
Wealth,  vice,  corruption,  barbarism  at  last; 
And  History,  with  all  its  volumes  vast, 

Hath  but  one  page.” 


PRESENT  ASPECTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  GERMANY.  I. 

BY  PROFESSOR  GEORGE  HOLMES  HOWISON.1 * * * * * 


TOROFESSOR  HOWISON  said,  in  sub- 
stance  : I could  not,  in  the  space  of 
two  lectures,  even  had  I the  requisite 
knowledge  of  details,  cover  the  vast  field 
suggested  by  the  title  of  my  subject.  I 
must  only7  attempt  to  describe  certain  as- 
pects of  present  German  thought.  But  I 
hope  these  may  prove  typical,  and  that 
what  I shall  say  may  have  some  of  the 
interest  attaching  to  the  words  of  a per- 
sonal observer. 

A conspicuous  fact  in  German  thinking 
today  is  the  apparent  reversal  of  the  old 
historical  relation.  The  philosophic  tradi- 
tion in  Germany  used  to  be  to  assume  a 
primacy  in  philosophy",  to  regard  the  Ger- 

1  George  Holmes  Howison  was  born  in  Montgomery 

County,  Maryland,  Nov.  29,  1834,  and  was  graduated  from 

Marietta  College,  Ohio,  in  1852,  from  which,  also,  after  an 

intervening  study  of  theology  at  Lane  Seminary,  Cincin- 

nati, he  received,  in  1855,  the  degree  cf  M.  A.  From  1864 

to  1867  he  was  assistant  professor  of  mathematics  in  Wash- 
ington University,  St.  Louis,  at  which  time  was  published  his 

“Treatise  on  Analytic  Geometry,”  a comprehensive  work, 
presenting  particularly  the  modern  methods  of  reciprocals, 


man  point  of  view  as  far  higher  than  others, 
and  especially  to  look  down  on  English 
empiricism  as  a “standpoint  quite  over- 
won.” At  present,  however,  nothing  in 
“ Young  Germany”  is  more  striking  than 
its  almost  eager  anxiety  to  throw  awayr 
not  merely  the  results  but  the  methods  of 
its  past,  and  go  diligently  to  school  in 
those  of  England.  The  indispensable  key 
to  an  understanding  of  the  present  move- 
ments is  the  philosophy  of  Kant,  which 
has  pervaded  all  German  thinking,  or  at 
anyr  rate  determined  its  direction,  for  now 
nearly  a century.  We  cannot  do  better, 
then,  than  to  spend  the  main  part  of  this 
first  lecture  in  a resume  of  that,  with  such 

trilinears,  and  tangentials,  and  the  abridged  notation. 
From  1867  to  1869  he  was  professor  of  logic  and  political 
economy  in  the  same  institution.  In  1871  he  was  appointed 
professor  of  logic  and  the  philosophy  of  science  in  the 
Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology  in  Boston,  and  con- 
tinued in  this  office  till  the  summer  of  1879.  During  the 
year  1879-80,he  was  lecturer  on  ethics  in  Harvard  Univer- 
sity. lie  has  recently  spent  two  years  in  Europe,  interesting 
himself  in  the  state  of  philosophy,  especially  in  Germany. 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


25 


preliminary  notice  of  previous  thought  as 
is  necessary  to  render  it  intelligible. 

The  problem  of  philosophy  has  never 
been  more  comprehensively  stated  than  by 
Kant,  in  his  saying  that  it  is  summed  up 
in  the  three  questions  : What  can  I know? 
TF7 lat  ought  I to  do  ? and  What  may  I hope 
for ? Another  question,  How  much  can  1 
rationally  believe  ? lies  indeed  back  of  these, 
embracing  them  all.  You  will  recognize 
it  at  once  as  the  engrossing  question  of  our 
day,  but  it  has  been  tacitly,  if  not  explicitly, 
that  of  all  thinkers  from  the  beginning  of 
modern  philosophy.  Indeed,  the  burning 
questions  of  philosophy  have  always  been 
the  questions  of  religion  : Is  there  a God? 

Am  I free  and  accountable?  Is  there 
an  existence  after  death?  God,  freedom, 
immortality  — these  three,  as  Kant  forcibly 
pointed  out,  make  up  the  substance  of  all 
metaphysical  dispute.  Thus,  just  as  mod- 
ern physics  begins  with  Bacon,  in  a revolt 
against  the  scholastic  tradition  that  hope- 
lessly fettered  the  study  of  nature,  so,  in 
Descartes  and  his  followers,  modern  meta- 
pln'sics  opens  with  an  outbreak  against 
the  traditional  basis  for  religion  and  duty. 
The  Continental  philosophy,  as  developed 
by  Descartes,  Spinoza  and  Leibnitz,  was 
briefly  the  resolve  to  find  God,  duty  and 
immortality,  not  in  traditional  dogma,  but 
in  reason,  or  else  to  have  done  with  them. 
In  the  Continental,  as  opposed  to  the  In- 
sular (or  English)  philosophy,  resort  was 
had,  for  the  criterion  of  truth,  to  certain 
primitive  ideas  of  reason , assumed  to  cor- 
respond to  the  realities  distinct  from  us. 
The  Insular,  on  the  other  hand,  set  up  as 
the  standard  the  facts  of  sense.  Locke, 
following  Hobbes,  aspired  to  raise  Bacon’s 
precept  for  the  study  of  nature  into  a rule 
for  the  government  of  all  inquiry  whatever  : 
experience  was  to  be  the  sole  source  and 
the  limit  of  knowledge.  From  his  time, 
the  question  of  the  origin  and  scope  of  our 
ideas  becomes  paramount. 

Locke  and  his  immediate  followers  held, 
with  a strange  inconsequence,  that,  in  spite 


of  our  entire  dependence  on  experience, 
the  conviction  of  God’s  existence  could  be 
reached,  through  the  principle  of  causality 
and  the  argument  from  design,  “ with  all 
the  certainty  of  demonstration.”  But  pres- 
ent]}' came  Hume,  to  search  the  house  of 
empiricism  to  its  remotest  chambers,  and 
sweep  them  as  with  the  besom  of  a Nem- 
esis. With  inexorable  rigor  and  remorse- 
less detail,  he  demonstrates,  in  his  “Trea- 
tise of  Human  Nature,”  the  absolute  limi- 
tation of  experience  to  the  sensation  of  the 
present  instant.  Our  personal  identity,  as 
an  abiding  ground  uniting  the  sense-impres- 
sions of  the  past  and  the  present  in  an  un- 
broken history  of  consciousness,  is  reduced 
on  empirical  principles  to  a mere  deposit 
from  association, — a mere  notion , born  of 
our  fantasy,  and  hardened  into  a pseudo- 
necessity by  the  pressure  of  habit.  Thus 
the  soul,  as  an  abiding  reality,  free,  respon- 
sible, capable  of  immortality,  fades  into  a 
conjecture  ; and,  by  a like  process,  so  does 
the  world,  as  a reality  underlying  phenom- 
ena ; and  so  also  God,  as  the  transcendent 
Cause  of  the  world.  The  entire  fabric  of 
religion  and  duty  is  shown  to  vanish  from 
the  sphere  of  knowledge  and  obligation, 
and  to  rest,  if  anywhere,  on  the  ever-shift- 
ing basis  of  social  convenience. 

Thus  the  outcome  of  philosophy  down 
to  Kant  is  this  : that  the  question  whether 
we  can  say  anything  decisive  on  the  vital 
matters,  God,  freedom  and  immortality, 
turns  on  whether  we  can  know  otherwise 
than  by  experience.  Moreover,  by  Hume’s 
showing,  the  favorable  decision  of  this 
latter  question  is  far  less  simple  and  ready 
than  the  Continental  philosophers  had  sup- 
posed. They  inferred  our  power  to  tran- 
scend experience  and  penetrate  to  knowl- 
edge of  things  eternal,  from  the  supposed 
necessity  and  universality  of  certain  prim- 
itive judgments.  But  Hume  points  out 
that  such  judgments  are  not  real,  but 
merely  formal : they  never  concern  matter 
of  fact , but  only  relations  of  ideas ; they 
are  merely  hypothetical,  asserting  simply 


2 6 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany . 


that  if  a certain  notion  be  supposed,  cer- 
tain consequences,  which  are  likewise  mere 
notions  however,  must  always  follow  : as 
when  we  say  that  if  there  be  a right  angle 
in  a triangle,  the  square  on  the  side  oppo- 
site to  it  must  equal  the  sum  of  the  squares 
on  the  other  twTo  sides.  Here  there  is  no 
assertion  of  fact , no  statement  that  there 
is  any  figure  with  its  parts  in  the  mentioned 
relation,  but  only  that  the  idea,  of  such  a 
figure  involves  the  idea  of  the  relation  re- 
hearsed. But,  continues  Hume,  the  ques- 
tions of  metaphysics  — of  God,  and  of  a 
soul  responsible  and  immortal  — all  con- 
cern matter  of  fact;  it  is  futile,  then,  to 
essay  their  solution  with  judgments  neces- 
saiy  and  universal,  which  never  concern 
anything  but  relations  of  ideas  ; and  how 
can  experience,  on  the  other  hand,  which 
is  the  sole  evidence  competent  to  fact, 
grapple  with  questions  of  fact  purporting 
to  transcend  all  possible  experience?  In 
short,  he  concludes,  the  question  hence- 
forth for  the  affirmative  metaphysician  is, 
How  can  judgments  on  matter  of  fact  by 
mere  reason  be  possible  ? The  answer  to 
this  seems  to  go  without  the  saying ; the 
question  has  the  air  of  a plain  contradic- 
tion ; and  it  looks  as  if  the  basis  for  ra- 
tionalist metaphysics  had  suffered  a final 
demolition. 

H ume’s  views  crossed  the  channel  into 
Germany,  and,  to  borrow  Kant’s  own 
phrase,  “ roused  him  from  the  dogmatist 
slumber”  in  which  he  had  been  dreaming 
the  dreams  of  traditional  rationalism.  But 
he  awoke  to  discover,  and  to  point  out 
bej’ond  the  need  of  revision,  the  limitations 
of  empiricism,  and  Hume’s  lack  of  precision 
and  compass  in  dealing  with  his  topic.  He 
had  penetrated  the  ambiguity  in  the  phrase 
“ matter  of  fact,”  had  found  the  accurate 
substitute  for  it  as  a test  of  realit}",  and 
could  now  vindicate  reality  to  those  neces- 
sary judgments  that  Hume  had  stigmatized 
as  merely  formal,  pointing  out  at  the  same 
time  the  higher  sense  in  which  the  latter 
title  was  still  to  be  retained.  Judgments  are 


real,  he  said,  when  they  add  to  our  knowl- 
edge,— when  they  add  to  the  conceptions 
of  their  subjects  elements  that  these  do 
not  themselves  contain.  As  such,  as  com- 
bining the  new  with  the  old,  they  will  be 
best  described  as  synthetic;  while  judg- 
ments that  merely  take  apart  the  elements 
already  contained  in  their  subjects,  should 
in  contrast  be  named  analytic.  A syn- 
thetic judgment,  however,  may  be  formal , 
not  indeed  as  contrasted  with  real , but  as 
distinguished  from  material:  it  may  state, 
not  the  contents,  but  the  form  of  a fact, — 
not  simply  that  it  exists,  but  that  it  exists 
(and  universally)  thus  and  so.  To  the  con- 
tents of  fact,  said  Kant,  experience  is  the 
indispensable  witness  ; to  their  form , on 
the  contrary,  reason  (and  that,  too,  abso- 
lutely independent  of  experience)  alone  is 
competent ; in  no  other  way  can  we  ex- 
plain the  strict  universality  of  formal  judg- 
ments, to  which  experience  can,  of  course, 
by  no  possibility  lead  us  ; and  these  judg- 
ments of  pure  reason,  as  thus  wholly  inde- 
pendent of  experience,  and  therefore  prior 
to  it  in  logic,  though  not  indeed  in  time, 
we  shall  fitly  describe  as  a priori. 

Hume  would  have  us  believe,  Kant  con- 
tinued, that  these  formal  judgments,  which 
he  misconstrues  as  unreal,  are  merely  an- 
alytic ; they  are,  however,  in  fact  synthetic, 
because  sensation,  though  insufficient  for 
their  proof,  is  indispensable  to  it : thus  we 
cannot  determine  a really  unknown  sum  of 
two  numbers  without  counting  the  separate 
units  in  sensible  instants  of  some  kind  or 
other  ; still  less  can  we  establish  a theorem 
in  geometry  without  the  construction  of 
auxiliary  lines.  The  proper  form  of  the 
problem  of  reason,  then,  is  not  Hume’s,  but 
this  : How  are  synthetic  judgments  possible 
a priori ? And  here  the  whole  emphasis  falls 
on  the  How.  Such  judgments  are  possible, 
because  they  exist ; as  witness  the  whole 
science  of  mathematics,  and  that  of  pure 
physics  also,  with  its  axioms,  “Every 
change  must  have  a cause,”  “Action  and 
reaction  are  always  equal,”  and  other 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


27 


propositions  of  similar  necessity.  Our 
problem,  then,  proceeded  Kant,  is  to  ex- 
plain them  ; and  this  How  is  threefold  : 
it  means,  What  must  be  (1)  their  nature, 
(2)  the  nature  of  the  fact-world  to  which 
they  refer,  and  (3)  the  limitations  of  their 
use  in  order  not  to  render  them  impos- 
sible ? 

The  answers  to  these  three  questions,  to- 
gether with  the  arguments  on  which  they 
are  founded,  form  the  contents  of  the 
epoch-making  “Critique  of  Pure  Reason.” 
To  the  first,  Kant  replies  by  showing  that 
synthetic  judgments,  to  be  a priori,  must 
he  formal,  never  material;  they  are  empty 
statements  of  universal  law,  and  never  at- 
testations of  specific  fact.  But  how  can 
such  law  apply  to  such  fact?  how  can 
that  which  springs  from  the  mind  a priori 
(i.  e.  independently  of  all  expedience), 
possibly  be  true  of  that  which  comes  into 
the  mind  only  a posteriori  (i.  e.  in  the 
actual  process  of  experience)  ? It  cannot 
be  so,  Kant  answers,  unless  the  objects  to 
which  it  refers  are  tliemselces  the  product 
of  the  very  faculty  from  which  the  laic 
arises.  Thus  he  answers  the  second  ques- 
tion with  the  theory  that  the  world  of  ex- 
perience— the  whole  “ majestic  frame  of 
nature” — is  the  creature  of  our  intellect- 
ual constitution.  For  cognition,  he  shows, 
is  not  a passive  state,  but  an  active  dis- 
charge  ( eine  Function)  of  the  mind,  poured 
forth  from  the  native  constitution  of  rea- 
son— nay,  the  outpouring,  rather,  of  the 
very  elemental  form  of  reason — -to  be  the 
form  for  a filling,  or  contents,  likewise  in 
the  conscious  subject,  namely,  sensation. 
Thus  the  living  universe,  matter  as  well 
as  form,  becomes  the  offspring  of  the  the- 
oretical side  of  our  faculty  of  consciousness. 
Bold  and  revolutionary  stroke  ! — by  which 
Kant  passed  at  once  from  a theory  of 
knowledge  to  a new  philosophy,  the  in- 
verse of  all  that  had  gone  before  him. 

The  third  question,  Kant  answers  by 
essaying  to  prove  that  the  theoretical 
faculty,  in  its  a priori  as  completely  as  in 


its  empirical  judgments,  is  restricted  to  the 
world  of  sense.  After  a thorough-going 
analysis  of  the  whole  organism  of  cogni- 
tion, resolving  it  into  the  primal  elements, 
Space,  Time,  Cause  (as  central  among  his 
famous  Twelve  Categories),  and  the  Three 
Ideas  (God,  Soul  and  World),  he  pro- 
ceeds to  show  that  in  every  attempt  to 
apply  these  or  their  derivative  principles 
beyond  the  limits  of  experience  — as  in  ef- 
forts to  prove  God,  freedom  and  immortal- 
ity— the  reason  necessarily  falls  into  con- 
tradictions or  else  circles  about  in  plausible 
ineptitudes.  World-famous  and  world- 
shattering  is  the  assault  he  now  makes  on 
the  time-honored  defences  of  Natural  The- 
ology. One  after  the  other,  he  batters 
down,  into  debris  essentially  beyond  repair, 
the  historic  arguments  for  the  existence  of 
God — “ Ontological,  ” “ Cosmological,  ” 
“Teleological.”  The  current  proofs  for 
freedom  and  immortality  fare  but  little 
better,  especially  the  latter.  In  short,  the 
theoretical  part  of  Kant’s  proposed  ex- 
haustive “Critical  Science  of  Reason” 
ends,  as  he  well  understood,  byr  corroborat- 
ing Hume’s  doctrine  of  the  futility  of  meta- 
physics. 

But  not  so,  held  Kant,  ends  that  Science 
in  its  entirety.  It  must  complete  itself  by 
a practical  part.  In  this,  first  comes  to 
light  the  core,  the  aim,  the  import  of  his 
whole  philosophy : here  the  doubt  cast  by 
Hume  on  the  immutable  sanctity  of  duty 
shall  find  its  lasting  refutation  ; here  shall 
be  recovered  all  that  has  been  imperilled 
in  past  philosophy  by  forgetting  that  there 
is  a practical  as  well  as  a theoretical 
reason  ; here  at  length  shall  we  reach  the 
Everlasting  Rock  on  which  our  faith  in 
freedom,  immortality  and  God  is  truly 
planted.  For,  he  taught,  it  is  not  the 
whole,  nor  the  chief,  function  of  reason, 
to  weave  for  us  a world,  as  the  scene  of 
our  physical  existence  ; far  rather  is  the 
essence  of  reason  the  deliverance  of  the 
law  of  our  action  in  that  scene,  that  we 
mayr  build  within  the  world  of  nature,  and 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


28 


through  and  through  it,  a moral  world, 
framed  after  reason’s  supreme  ideals. 
The  inmost  core  of  reason  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  obligation.  That  is  to  say  : I find, 
on  entering  conscious  life,  the  entire 
sphere  of  my  volition  preoccupied  by  a 
Supreme  Will,  — a practical  judgment: 
synthetic,  as  declaring  that  I am  to  draw 
into  my  own  being  traits  that  are  not  there 
by  nature,  and  to  create  in  the  world  of 
sense  conjunctions  fit  to  be  the  symbol  and 
the  shelter  of  the  law  I am  to  serve  ; a 
priori  also,  as  unconditional.  And  in  this 
practical  sphere,  reason  finds  in  itself  that 
unrestricted  validity  which  was  denied  it 
in  the  theoretical ; for  moral  judgments 
must  be  absolute.  The  moral  consciousness 
is  such  that  it  cannot  do  homage  to  any- 
thing less  than  the  highest.  Let  us  but  once 
discover  that  there  is  a law  higher  than  that 
delivered  as  law  in  us,  forthwith  our  al- 
legiance transfers  itself  to  that.  Indeed, 
the  primal  law  delivered  by  reason  — the 
Categorical  Imperative,  as  Kant  names  it — 
is  precisely  this  : So  act  that  the  maxim  of 
thy  volition  may  stand  for  law  universal. 

In  the  moral  reference,  then,  reason  must 
in  certain  of  its  insights  be  able  to  pierce 
the  veil  of  phenomena,  penetrate  to  the 
noumenal,  the  eternal,  and  bring  back 
judgments  that  hold  for  all  worlds,  for  all 
Intelligences  ; otherwise  it  cannot  fill  its 
mere  formal  imperative  with  any  contents, 
anj’  particularization,  and  so  must  be  self- 
nugatory.  In  especial  must  this  absolute- 
ness hold  of  those  insights  of  reason  that 
concern  the  indispensable  conditions  for 
fulfilling  its  law.  Such  conditions  we  pos- 
tdate— posit  by  a priori  volition  — in 
that  Pure  Will  which  is  the  consciousness 
of  duty.  And  of  such  Postulates  of  Prac- 
tical Reason  there  are  in  fact  three  : free- 
dom, immortality,  and  God.  Freedom  is 
such  ; for  unless  I can,  in  my  noumenal 
self,  veritably  originate  changes  in  my 
phenomenal  sense-world,  whether  inner  or 
outer,  the  imperative  that  bids  me  do  so 
is  annulled.  Immortality  is  such  ; for  un- 


less an  endless  existence  awaits  me,  I 
cannot  fulfil  that  law  whose  infinite  perfec- 
tion battles  all  the  efforts  of  finitude,  and 
leaves  possible,  at  best,  only  the  hope  of 
approximating  to  it  through  endless  time. 
And  God  is  such  ; for  the  goal  of  the  prac- 
tical reason  is  the  Summum  Bonum  — the 
realization  of  a universe  in  which  happiness 
shall  be  proportioned  to  desert,  and  both 
shall  be  unbounded  : but  this  is  impossi- 
ble unless  there  is  an  Author  and  Gov- 
ernor of  nature,  at  once  all-holy,  all-wise, 
and  all-powerful.  With  the  same  uncon- 
ditional authoritativeness,  then,  wherewith, 
in  my  a priori  will,  I posit  my  owing 
allegiance  to  duty  in  general,  do  I in  that 
very  act  posit  it  my  duty  to  believe  in 
freedom,  immortality,  and  God.  And 
therefore,  with  the  same  revering  submis- 
sion with  which  1 acknowledge  the  one,  is 
it  my  duty  to  acknowledge  the  others.  My 
belief  in  them  is  thus  not  an  act  of  knowl- 
edge, but  of  faith ; not  a seeing,  nor 
through  anything  seen,  but  through  a sense 
of  duty , and  itself  a sense  of  duty. 

Such,  in  outline,  is  the  system  that  has 
exercised  so  mighty  an  influence,  attractive 
or  repulsive,  waxing  rather  than  waning, 
since  the  close  of  its  promulgation  in  1790. 1 
Its  affirmative  central  conception,  profound 
and  astonishingly  original,  were  it  once 
consistently  expounded,  would  doubtless 
prove  imperishable.  Such  consistent  ex- 
position at  the  hands  of  Kant  himself,  it 
failed,  however,  to  receive.  The  undertak- 
ing to  divide  reason  against  itself,  to  res- 
cue the  will  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  intellect, 
too  perilously  suggests  the  house  divided 
against  itself  that  could  not  stand.  The 
repair  of  the  gaps,  the  reduction  of  the 
contradictions,  the  rounding  out  of  the  in- 
completions, that  show  themselves  not 
obscurely  in  Kant’s  great  work,  has  given 

1 The  date  of  the  publication  of  the  “Critique  of  Judg- 
ment.” The  contents  of  this  part  of  Kant’s  system  are 
here  purposely  omitted,  partly  as  not  essential  to  our  after 
topic,  partly  as  not  used  by  Kant  himself  to  any  real  modifi- 
cation of  his  system  as  above  presented;  though  such  use 
would  have  brought  it  to  a consistency  that  would  have  ren- 
dered the  work  of  his  three  great  successors  unnecessary. 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


29 


abundant  employment  to  German  thinkers 
since  his  day,  and  forms  even  yet  the  oc- 
cupation of  many ; while  others,  in  oppo- 
sition, study  to  expose  and  exaggerate  his 
defects.  When  I speak  of  this  industry,  I 
imply,  however,  that  most  of  it  is  just  now 
silent,  and  only  mean  that  the  great 
majority  of  present  thinkers  have  come  to 
whatever  standpoints  the}’  may  hold, 
through  exercise  of  this  sort ; though  many 
are  still  openly  and  chiefly  engaged  in  it. 

The  struggle  now,  as  it  was  in  Kant’s 
day  and  immediately  afterwards,  is  to 
seize  upon  that  phase  of  his  doctrine  which 
seems  of  the  greatest  value,  and  then  to 
reconstruct  the  exposition  so  as  to  harmo- 
nize with  that.  There  has  thus  grown  up, 
besides  the  limited  materialist  school  rep- 
resenting intense  reaction  from  him  — 
whose  combat  with  the  system  that  claims 
to  have  given  materialism  a final  quietus  is 
naturally  mortal  — a numerous  school  of 
so-called  Neo-Kantians.  Their  aim  may  be 
described,  in  general  terms,  as  the  develop- 
ment of  Kant’s  theoretical  view  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  practical.  They’  construe  his 
limitation  of  real  knowledge  to  the  world 
of  experience,  to  result  in  a greatened 
empiricism  as  the  veritable  method  of 
real  knowledge  in  distinction  from  merely’ 
formal.  They  thus  seek  to  interpret  the 
so-called  “Critical”  final  stage  of  Kant’s 
development  into  a proper  continuation, 
instead  of  a surmounting,  of  the  “ Pre- 
critical”  earlier  one,  of  which  his  “ Gen- 
eral Theory  of  the  Heavens”  may  be 
taken  as  the  type — a work  in  which  he 
anticipates  Laplace’s  nebular  hypothesis 
and  indeed  the  entire  conception  of  evo- 
lution. In  this  wise  they  come  into  direct 
sympathy’ with  both  the  results  and  methods 
of  English  philosophy’  as  expounded  bv 
Hume,  and  particularly  by  Spencer  and 
Mill.  They’  find,  too,  a special  satisfac- 
tion in  thus  standing  on  common  ground 
with  modern  physical  science,  both  in 
method  and  in  conclusions.  Here,  too, 
they  are  able  to  strike  hands  with  another 


remarkable  section  of  their  fellow-thinkers 

— the  newest  new;  a group  who  may  be 
described  as  the  Slrict  Empiricists,  the  pur- 
est product  of  the  imported  article,  disci- 
ples in  method  of  Mill  and  Spencer  out 
right.  For  these  two  Englishmen,  espe- 
cially as  reinforced  by  the  wide-spread 
prevalence  of  Darwinism  in  the  natural 
sciences,  are  exerting  an  influence,  partic- 
ularly in  the  German  universities,  whose 
future  it  is  difficult  to  compute,  but  which 
is  positive  and  penetrating.  The  Germans 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  translate  all  the 
writings  of  Mill  and  the  most  important  of 
Spencer’s,  and  the  result  is  seen  in  various 
directions,  not  only’  in  the  increasing  em- 
piricism, agnosticism  and  evolutionism, 
but  in  comprehensive  attempts  at  the  re- 
organization of  logic  itself,  such  as  the 
recent  works  of  Lotze,  Sigwart,  Wundt, 
and  Lange. 

Thus  on  all  hands,  whether  in  the  camp 
of  the  materialists,  of  the  Neo-Ivautians, 
or  of  the  thorough-going  empiricists,  who 
busy’  themselves  mainly’  with  researches  in 
psychophysics  and  physiopsychology,  with 
glowing  hopes  of  “ inductions,”  in  some 
remote  future,  that  are  to  uncover  all  the 
“ secrets  of  the  soul,”  supposed  to  be  con- 
veniently hid  awayr  in  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, — on  all  these  hands,  there,  is  a 
remarkable  concord  in  the  new  value  given 
to  English  thought,  in  the  paramount  im- 
port attributed  to  experience,  and  in  the 
great  expectations  from  the  newly  invented 
“ logics  of  induction.”  Nor  is  there  want- 
ing, in  abundance,  that  assured  contempt 
for  the  philosophy’  of  the  past  (now  igno- 
miniously’  nicknamed  “ biosse  Construction  ” 

— bare  manufacture ),  which  is  the  sure 
concomitant,  and  indeed  the  sign,  of  all 
“cleariug-up”  (Auf/rfarung) . Especially 
is  this  true  with  respect  to  the  great  succes- 
sors of  Kant — Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Hegel. 
To  mention  these  names,  in  fact,  is  nowadays 
the  signal  for  raising  in  most  German 
circles  the  image  of  mere  vagary,  — of 
romantic  philosophic  folly’.  These  great 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


3° 

thinkers,  feeling  the  weightiness  of  Kant’s 
practical  view,  and  comprehending  the 
danger  threatening  this  from  his  theoreti- 
cal scepticism,  set  about  cancelling  the 
latter  by  an  effort  to  develop  the  funda- 
mental principles  of  the  “Critique”  to 
their  legitimate  vindication  of  the  absolute 
character  of  theoretical  reason.  This  they 
sought  to  effect  by  the  removal  of  his 
assumed  “Thing  in  itself,”  the  supposed 
unknowable  basis  of  the  phenomenal  world 
of  experience.  In  this  way,  they  grad- 
ually passed  from  the  Relative  Idealism  of 
Kant  — in  result  identical  with  the  agnos- 
ticism now  so  familiar  from  the  teachings 
of  Spencer,  Mill,  and  Comte  — to  that 
Absolute  Idealism  which  was  wrought 
to  its  completest  form  by  Hegel,  — the 
doctrine  of  a one  and  only  Infinite  Person, 
manifesting  his  eternal  consciousness  in 
an  incessant  system  of  persons,  the  com-  | 
plete  expression  of  whose  conscious  lives 
into  definite  and  adequate  particularity 
forms  the  sensible  universe  of  experience 
and  the  world  of  moral  order  that  is  per- 
petually being  inorbed  therein. 

But  this  view  of  things,  which  is  at 
present  taking  such  a hold  in  Scotland, 
England,  and  America,  is  in  Germany,  if 
not  dead,  at  any  rate  dormant.  Beyond 
a few  venerable  men,  on  the  frail  verge  of 
life,  like  Eduard  Erdmann  of  Halle  and 
Michelet  of  Berlin,  the  genuine  influence 
of  Hegel  finds  utterance  perhaps  onlj'  at 
Heidelberg,  in  the  voice  of  Kuno  Fischer, 
and  he  is  not  a system  teacher,  but  an 
historian.  Zeller,  the  illustrious  historian 
of  Greek  philosophy,  Althaus,  Adolf  Las- 
son,  all  at  Berlin,  though  indeed  once  ad- 
herents of  Hegel  in  name,  have  long  felt 
too  heavily  the  strain  of  the  “left  wing’’ 
view  of  his  s}-stem  to  keep  the  position 
with  any  hearty  assent.  Idealism,  as  a 
systematically  defended  theory,  has  degen- 
erated through  Schopenhauer  into  the  cum- 
brous empirical  pessimism  of  Eduard  von 
II  artmann,  its  sole  recent  representative 
of  note ; and  he,  however  wide  his  in- 


fluence among  outsiders  of  shallow  culture, 
has  at  present  no  weight  in  the  universities. 

The  present  situation,  in  short,  is  by 
every  indication  one  of  metaphysical  non- 
conviction, of  halt,  of  transition.  In  such 
times,  men  take  refuge  in  the  study  of  his- 
tory, in  psychology  and  other  empirical 
inquiries,  and  in  biographical  and  in  bib- 
liographical researches.  A few  figures, 
drawn  from  the  most  authentic  sources, 
will  serve  to  show  how  truly  this  is  the 
case  in  Germany  at  the  present  day.  Five 
years  ago,  in  “Mind ’’for  July,  1877,  in 
an  article  on  “ Philosophy  in  German}-,” 
Professor  Wundt  of  Leipsic  gave  some 
valuable  statistics,  drawn  from  the  well- 
known  TJniversitdts-Kalender , edited  annu- 
ally by  Dr.  Ascherson.  For  the  five  con- 
secutive years  preceding  1877,  out  of 
three  hundred  and  sixteen  courses  of  lec- 
tures given  throughout  Germany  in  the 
department  of  philosophy,  one  hundred 
anil  thirty-one  were  devoted  to  history, 
one  hundred  and  fourteen  to  psychology, 
thirty-nine  to  logic  and  metaphysics,  and 
thirty-two  to  ethics.  Tims  the  historical 
and  empirical  branches  had  almost  wholly 
displaced  the  creative  and  systemic  teach- 
ing of  metaphysics,  which  was  once  the 
chief  interest  in  the  universities.  The 
most  recent  statistics,  which  I take  from 
the  same  authentic  source,  confirm  and 
even  emphasize  the  same  fact.  In  the 
recent  winter  semester  of  1881-82,  there 
were  in  the  various  branches  of  philoso- 
phy, about  six  hundred  lectures  each  week 
throughout  the  German-speaking  coun- 
tries. Of  these,  fifty-three  per  cent,  were 
on  history,  rudiments,  and  the  historical 
exposition  of  particular  systems  ; twenty- 
three  per  cent,  on  ethics  and  pedagogy ; 
twelve  per  cent,  on  psychology  (mainly 
physiological)  ; eight  per  cent,  on  logic ; 
and  one  per  cent,  on  anthropology,  leaving 
only  three  per  cent,  for  metaphysics  proper. 

A philosophic  halt  is  clearly  called,  and 
men  have  taken  to  the  history  of  the  sub- 
ject, perhaps  in  the  hope  of  finding,  in  the 


Personality. 


31 


light  of  what  has  hitherto  been  thought, 
some  hint  to  a system  not  j-et  thought  of; 
perhaps  in  a sceptical  indifferentism,  or  a 
dilettante  interest  in  whatever  is  human  : 
Homo  sum  et  niiiil  humani  a me  alienum 
puto.  If  it  be  asked  whether  all  this  indi- 
cates a fatal  decline  in  originative  philoso- 
phic power,  and  a permanent  loss  by  Ger- 
many of  her  philosophic  leadership,  to 
continue  in  the  humbler  role  of  pupil  to 
English  empiricism  and  agnosticism,  the 
answer  of  course  is  uncertain ; but  we 


have  always  encouragement  to  anticipate 
the  final  victory  of  insight  in  a people, 
provided  its  political  and  social  conditions 
are  such  as  to  promise  it  a lasting  career. 
These  conditions  in  Germany  seem  on  the 
whole  eminently  favorable,  and  we  may 
therefore  hope  that  her  thinking  classes 
will  yet  agaiu  come  to  an  understanding 
of  the  great  affirmative  successors  of  Kant, 
and  earn'  still  further  towards  its  desired 
completion  that  Science  of  Reason  in  which 
they  achieved  so  much. 


Third  Day,  — July  19. 


PERSONALITY. 

BY  MR.  ALCOTT. 


nV/TR.  ALCOTT  said  he  wished  to  speak 
in  as  plain  terms  as  he  could  com- 
mand. Even  Plato,  the  master-mind  of  the 
Greeks,  when  translated  by  the  best  trans- 
lators, is  often  unintelligible  ; and  how  can 
one  expect  to  understand  him  unless  he 
lives  purely,  ideally,  like  him?  By  per- 
sonality Mr.  Alcott  said  he  meant  that 
which  is  universal  and  common  to  men,  — 
all  that  is  central  and  absolute  in  each  one. 
By  individuality  he  meant  that  which  is 
particular  and  special,  which  distinguishes 
one  person  from  another.  The  former  is 
universal,  the  latter  is  special.  He  did 
not  use  instinct  in  the  sense  of  the  natu- 
ralist, as  a blind  force.  It  is  the  first 
motion  of  spirit,  the  force  or  life  b}^  which 
spirit  manifests  itself,  blindl}'  at  first. 
Finally  it  opens  out  through  all  the  facul- 
ties. In  intuition  the  mind  has  direct 
insight  into  the  essence  of  things.  Insight 
is  a less  clear  form  of  intuition,  not  so 
general.  Inspiration  comes  when  the  spirit 
through  instincts  reveals  itself  in  all  the 
faculties.  Revelation  is  not  final  unless 


manifested  through  inspiration ; revela- 
tion takes  possession  of  all  our  faculties. 
It  is  the  whole  of  that  which  can  be  mani- 
fested, the  whole  of  the  possibilities  of 
expression. 

By  mind  Mr.  Alcott  said  he  meant  that 
which  thinks,  reasons,  apprehends,  com- 
prehends ; in  other  words,  intellect.  By 
soul  is  meant  that  which  feels,  loves,  has 
passions  and  affections.  The  will  is  the 
power  of  choosing  or  refusing.  The  in- 
tellect, thinking,  aims  at  thinking  the 
truth  absolutely.  The  soul,  loving,  seeks 
to  find  the  good,  and  will,  willing,  seeks 
the  right.  Rightfulness,  truthfulness  and 
goodness  constitute  the  trinity  we  are. 
Reason,  conscience  and  affection  consti- 
tute our  personality.  No  animal  is  three- 
fold ; and  man,  as  an  animal,  is  only  dual. 
Conscience  is  the  sense  of  right.  Spirit 
is  immanent  in  the  conscience,  command- 
ing us  to  do  right  and  holding  us  respon- 
sible for  what  we  do.  There  are  several 
stages  before  we  may  be  said  to  sin  ; for 
instance,  the  mistake  maj'  be  in  our  judg- 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


ment  ns  to  what  is  right.  A three-twisted 
strand  is  our  personality,  dropped  down 
from  the  Godhead  into  matter. 

Actors  formerly  wore  masks  and  spoke 
from  behind  them,  and  in  like  manner  is 
the  body  our  mask,  and  the  soul,  which 
speaks  through  us,  is  the  personality,  the 
immanent  Godhead.  The  soul,  mind  and 
will  are  one,  manifested  in  a threefold 
aspect.  Unless  there  were  this  threefold- 
ness to  our  personality,  the  Christian  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity  could  never  have  found 
expression.  God  is  the  Creator,  and  being 
in  his  likeness,  we  are  persons  as  such,  not 
individuals.  The  trinity  runs  through 
everything,  because  God  is  in  everything, 
though  not  everything  attains  personality. 
No  animal  is  a person,  or  says  “ I.”  All 
animals  are  under  the  sway  of  fate,  and 
man  also,  in  so  far  as  he  is  the  victim 
of  his  senses  and  appetites. 

The  sum  total  of  animal,  man,  transcends 
all  animals,  being  a person,  a responsible 
creature.  An  animal  is  not  self-conscious  ; 
it  cannot  sin.  “ The  distinguishing  mark,” 
says  Aristotle,  “between  man  and  the 
lower  animals  is  this : that  he  alone  is 
endowed  with  the  power  of  knowing  good 
and  evil,  justice  and  injustice,  and  it  is  a 
participation  in  this  that  constitutes  a 
family  and  a city.”  To  affirm  that  brute 
creatures  are  endowed  with  freedom  and 
choice,  and  with  the  sense  of  responsibil- 
ity, were  to  exalt  them  into  spirituality 
and  personality,  whereas  it  is  plain  that 
the}’  are  not  above  deliberation  and  choice, 


but  below  it,  under  the  sway  of  fate, 
as  men  are  when  running  counter  to  rea- 
son and  the  right.  The  will  bridges  the 
chasm  between  the  human  and  divine ; 
thus  distinguishing  person  from  individ- 
ual, man  from  brute.  With  choice  begins 
our  personality  proper. 

“ If  men  be  worlds  there  is  in  every  one 
Something  to  answer  in  a fit  proportion, 

All  the  world’s  riches,  and  in  substance  this, 
Person  his  form’s  form,  and  soul’s  soul  is.” 

Perhaps  the  dul^uv  of  Socrates  was  the 
Spirit,  in  the  conscience,  forbidding  him 
to  do  certain  things.  The  Oriental  relig- 
ions may  have  arrived  at  pure  personality. 
Our  personality  is  a birthright  from  the 
Godhead.  Men  possess  all  their  faculties 
in  embryo  when  they  wake  up  in  this  life. 
First  born  into  the  outer  world  of  the 
senses,  the  infant  man  is  slowly  delivered 
into  the  mind,  the  world  of  thought  and 
personality.  Thus  unsensualized,  and 
plumed,  he  mounts  aloft,  and  overlooks 
the  dusty  suburbs  of  his  former-residence, 
whose  thoroughfares  he  had  traversed 
hitherto  as  the  mere  servant  of  his  animal 
wants. 

Baby,  underneath  the  sky, 

Solves  life's  riddle  presently, 

Finds  itself  an  “ I am  I,” 

Feels  itself  in  all  it  sees, 

Loveliest  of  mysteries, 

Yet  wondering  why  its  real  age 
So  blotted  is  on  Time’s  strange  page, 
And  all  life  long  one  ceaseless  fret, 
Conning  the  puzzling  alphabet. 


PRESENT  ASPECTS  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  GERMANY.  II. 

BY  PROFESSOR  IIOWISON. 


t I TIE  lecturer  said  : We  come  this  eve- 
ning  to  the  details  and  the  personnel  of 
the  more  prevalent  and  typical  views.  In 
ol  der  to  give  a clear  picture  of  the  facts,  it 
will  be  advantageous  to  consider  them  in 
two  principal  groups  : first,  the  philosophic 
influences  at  work  in  German  society  at 


large  ; and,  second,  those  operating  in  the 
universities. 

• I.  With  respect  to  the  former,  there 
are  noticeable  in  the  total  stream  of  present 
German  thought  three  main  currents  — 
the  idealistic,  the  materialistic,  and  the 
agnostic.  Each  of  these  has  a leading 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


33 


representative  ; and  thus  there  are  three 
men  who  challenge  our  attention,  as  being 
in  their  several  ways  typical  — Eduard 
von  Hartmann,  Eugen  Duhring,  and  Fried- 
rich Albert  Lange.  The  first  stands  for 
the  current  degenerate  idealism  ; the 
second,  for  materialism ; and  the  third, 
for  agnosticism,  with  the  additional  and 
peculiar  interest  of  being  the  Neo-Kantian 
par  excellence. 

In  opening  the  study  of  Hartmann,  and 
of  his  large  circle  of  readers,  we  come 
upon  the  locus  of  Schopenhauer’s  influ- 
ence, the  vast  reach  of  which  in  the 
general  “Enlightened  Public”  of  present 
Germany  it  is  impossible  to  overlook. 
Hartmann  is  generally  recognized  as  the 
direct  heir  of  Schopenhauer.  His  so- 
called  system,  however,  is  far  inferior  in 
intellectual  quality  to  his  master’s.  He 
differs  from  Schopenhauer  in  substituting 
the  empirical  method  for  the  a priori , and 
in  his  doctrine  concerning  the  nature  of 
the  absolute.  The  former  trait  expresses 
his  deference  to  the  “ stupendous  achieve- 
ments ” of  recent  modern  science ; the 
latter,  his  ambition  to  frame  a system  that 
should  blend  in  one  higher  unity  whatever 
of  preceding  theory  he  knew.  His  prob- 
lem has  the  look  of  being  this  : — Given 
misery  as  the  sum  of  existence,  what  must 
be  presupposed  in  order  to  account  for  it? 
The  method  and  the  contents  of  his  solu- 
tion both  show  what  a weight  the  empirical 
method  has  with  him,  in  contrast  with  the 
dialectical.  He  seizes  on  a striking  and 
mysterious  class  of  facts  in  our  psychologi- 
cal history  as  the  explanation  of  his  prob- 
lem and  the  r’eal  basis  of  life.  There  is  in 
our  very  experience,  he  says,  the  manifest 
presence  of  an  unconscious  agency  ; and  he 
refers  here  to  all  that  class  of  experiences 
nowadays  commonly  grouped  under  the 
term  “reflex  action”  — facts  of  somnam- 
bulism, trance,  clairvoyance,  and  instinc- 
tive knowledge.  The  Unconscious,  then, 
is  here  with  us,  he  holds  ; there  is  beneath 
our  consciousness  a something  that  per- 


forms for  us,  even  when  our  consciousness 
is  suspended,  all  that  is  most  characteristic 
of  life,  and  that  too  with  a swift  and  infalli- 
ble surety  and  precision  : what  less  then 
can  we  do,  than  to  accept  this  Unconscious 
as  the  one  and  absolute  reality?  So  is 
founded  the  “Philosophy  of  the  Uncon- 
scious.” 

Hartmann  first  addresses  himself  to  the 
refutation  of  the  Kantian  thesis  that  knowl- 
edge is  only  of  the  phenomenal.  He 
makes  his  Unconscious  the  common  source 
of  two  parallel  streams  of  appearance  — 
the  one  objective,  the  sensible  world  itself ; 
the  other  subjective,  the  stream  of  our 
conscious  perceptions  of  the  world.  These 
two  streams,  as  both  flowing  from  the  one 
Unconscious,  under  identically  correspond- 
ing conditions,  are  in  incessant  counter- 
part and  correspondence.  Thus  knowledge, 
though  not  a copy  of  natural  objects,  is  an 
exact  counter-image  of  them.  Existence 
is  thus  clhubled  throughout ; space,  time, 
and  the  causal  nexus  are  duplicated  too, 
as  well  as  the  units  that  they  contain  or 
connect. 

In  the  light  of  the  knowledge  thus  vindi- 
cated, the  Unconscious  so  far  reveals  itself, 

I that  we  know  it  is  something  infallibly  and 
infinitely  intelligent.  Strictly,  it  is  not  the 
unconscious,  but  rather  the  sr<5conscious- 
the  unbeknown  ( das  Unbewusste ) . In 
its  infallible  infinite-swiftness  of  percep- 
tion, however,  as  experience  testifies  of  it, 
there  is  a transcendent  type  of  the  flashing 
inspirations  of  genius.  It  is  thus  not  self, 
conscious  ; its  intelligence  is  clairvoyant. 
As  intelligent  energy,  it  has  the  two 
constituents  that  we  find  present  in  all 
intelligent  activity  within  experience  — 
will  and  representation,  or  will  and  idea. 

And  here  is  the  juncture  for  Hartmann 
to  correct  and  complete  Schopenhauer’s 
doctrine  of  the  absolute.  Not  ivill  is  the 
absolute  ; for  will  as  well  as  representation 
is  part  of  conscious  experience  : will  is 
itself  phenomenal.  Rather  are  will  and 
representation  the  two  co-ordinate  and 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


34 

primal  manifestations  of  the  one  Uncon- 
scious. But  Hartmann  is  now  well  ashore 
on  the  familiar  coasts  of  Schopenhauer- 
land.  The  world-child  of  Idea  and  Will 
is  no  product  of  far-sighted  love,  endowed 
with  an  exhaustless  future  of  joy  ; it  is  the 
offspring  of  chance,  and  its  future  carries  in 
its  very  core  the  germs  of  ever-expanding 
misery.  This  gloomy  theme  Hartmann 
pursues  through  all  the  provinces  of  experi- 
ence, seeking  to  prove  that  suffering  every- 
where outbalances  happiness,  that  “ he  that 
increaseth  knowledge  inereaseth  sorrow,’’ 
the  pitch  of  anguish  rising  ever  higher  and 
higher  as  nature  ascends  in  the  scale  of 
consciousness.  There  is  but  one  plain 
moral  in  the  drama  of  life  — that  of  the 
utter  worthlessness  of  existence,  and 
ethics  thus  sums  itself  into  the  single  pre- 
cept, “ Make  an  end  of  it ! ” Neverthe- 
less, ethics  ma}'  have  the  important  prac- 
tical part  of  settling  the  question,  How 
shall  we  make  an  end  of  things  the  surest 
and  soonest?  There  is  indeed  here  no 
duty ; there  is  no  such  thing  as  duty, 
there  is  simply  a possible  satisfaction 
of  desire ; but  there  may  be  an  alter- 
native of  means.  For  ethics  is  the  doc- 
trine of  the  fulfilment  of  the  will,  and 
will  is  in  its  essence  only  wild  unrest. 
Both  metaphysics  and  experience  therefore 
teach  that  its  proper  means  of  satisfaction 
is  pacification : it  must  be  brought  to  still- 
ness. Hasten  then  the  day  when  the  pitch 
of  misery  shall  have  risen  to  the  frenzy  of 
despair,  and  mankind  in  united  delirium 
shall  by  final  self-immolation  end  the 
tragedy  of  existence  forever  ! 

Apart  from  the  revolt  from  such  results 
which  minds  of  any  vivid  moral  life  would 
promptly  feel,  the  intellectual  lack  of  fibre 
betrayed  in  adherence  to  this  mesh  of  con- 
tradictions is  a telling  evidence  of  the 
decline  of  the  German  ‘ ‘ cultivated  classes  ” 
in  theoretical  tone.  Limp  as  this  “ sj'stem  ” 
hangs,  with  its  preposterous  attempt  to 
construe  the  absolute  by  mere  image-think- 
ing) by  adjustments  of  components  placed 


side  by  side,  by  a temporal  antecedence  to 
the  world  of  nature,  in  short,  by  strictly 
mechanical  categories  flung  on  the  screen 
of  space  and  time  — to  say  nothing  of  its 
bald  ignoring  of  the  chasm  between  con- 
sciousness and  the  Unconscious,  its  abso- 
lute at  once  unconscious  and  conscious,  its 
deduction  of  the  reality  of  knowledge  from 
the  assumed  derivation  of  duplicate  worlds 
from  the  Unconscious  and  its  then  using 
this  realitj'  to  establish  this  very  deriva- 
tion, — flimsy  as  all  this  is,  there  seems  to 
be  a sufficient  multitude  to  whom  it  gives  a 
certain  satisfaction.  It  is  true,  however, 
that  this  class  of  minds  makes  only  a por- 
tion of  the  German  public.  The  higher 
and  more  thorough  order  of  culture  has 
had  insight  to  see  the  bubble,  and  has 
pricked  it  without  pity. 

When  we  turn  to  Diihring,  we  find  our- 
selves at  once  in  the  opposite  extreme  of 
the  emotional  climate.  Diihring  is  mate- 
rialist, but  he  is  optimist  still  more.  He 
names  his  system  the  “ Philosophy  of  the 
Actual.”  This  title  sounds  almost  like  a 
challenge  to  Hartmann’s,  as  much  as  to 
say,  “ No  mystical  sub-conscious  or  incog- 
nizable Background  here  ! ” To  have  this 
so  is  Diihring’s  first  and  last  endeavor. 
The  absolute,  for  him,  is  briefly  and 
frankly  “ matter.”  As  we  perceive  it  and 
think  it,  so  it  is  ; and  it  may  be  called,  in 
short,  a variable  constant.  This  conception 
of  an  indissoluble  polar  union  between 
permanence  and  change  is,  according  to 
Diihring,  the  vital  nerve  of  the  Actual  and 
the  key  to  its  entire  philosophy.  This 
union  is  possible  only  by  the  Actual’s  con- 
sisting of  certain  primitive  elements, 
subject  to  definite  laws  of  combination  and 
change  of  combination.  The  permanent 
in  the  Actual  is  thus  (1)  atoms , (2)  types , 
or  the  primitive  kinds  of  the  atoms,  the 
origin  of  species  in  nature,  and  (3)  laivs, 
determining  the  possible  combinations  of 
types.  The  variable,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  the  series  of  changes  as  they  actually 
occur,  which  amount  simply  to  a change 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


35 


in  the  form  of  the  Actual,  in  its  parts  aud 
in  its  whole. 

If  we  were  to  analyze  Duhring’s  system 
in  detail,  we  should  end  at  his  position, 
that  to  deny  the  worth  of  life  is  to  put 
ourselves  in  conflict  with  the  elemental 
forces  of  our  being,  which  will  subdue  us 
in  spite  of  our  struggles.  Nevertheless, 
Diihring  holds,  though  life  is  essentially 
good,  there  is  real  evil  in  it,  and  one 
condition  of  its  good  is,  that  we  shall  rise 
to  higher  good  by  the  spring  from  over- 
coming the  evil.  In  this  principle  we  pass 
from  theory  to  practice,  finding  in  it  the 
basis  of  ethics.  The  highest  practical  pre- 
cept is,  “ Act  with  supreme  reference  to 
the  whole.”  But  as  we  are  members,  not 
only  of  the  absolute  whole,  but  of  the 
lesser  whole  called  society,  we  can  only  act 
in  and  through  that.  Duhring  makes  his 
system  end,  however,  in  a moral  atomism, 
as  it  began  in  a physical — in  the  mere 
self-dissolution  of  society.  Its  root  of 
irrationality  is  identical  with  that  of 
Hartmann’s  — undertaking  to  construe 
the  absolute  with  the  categories  of  the 
relative,  to  think  the  eternal  in  relations 
of  time  and  motion.  The  resistless  beat 
of  such  a theory  is  either  to  despair,  or 
else  to  illusions  of  reconstructing  the 
future  in  behalf  of  capricious  desire. 

We  can  consider  the  philosophy  of 
Lange  onty  briefly.  His  “ History  of 
Materialism  ” — a philosophy  buttressed 
b}T  history,  aiming  to  expose  the  deficien- 
cies of  materialism  — has  made  a deep 
impression  on  the  younger  men  at  the 
German  universities.  He  seeks  a higher 
point  of  view  than  is  afforded  by  either 
materialism  or  current  idealism,  and  is 
convinced  that  it  is  to  be  found  in  Kant. 
We  are  henceforth  to  understand,  once  for 
all,  that  knowledge  is  limited  strictly  to 
fact  — to  fact  of  experience.  “ And  yet,” 
he  adds,  “man  needs  a supplementing  of 
this  by  an  ideal  world  created  by'  himself 
and  in  such  free  creations  the  highest  and 
noblest  functions  of  his  mind  unite.”  His 


position  may  be  described,  most  generally, 
as  the  “Standpoint  of  the  Ideal.”  He 
speaks  of  the  Ideal,  not  as  a philosophy, 
but  only  as  a point  of  view,  because  he 
wishes  to  include  in  philosophy  not  only 
the  means  for  satisfying  the  craving  after 
ideality,  but  that  for  closing  with  the  de- 
mand for  certainty.  The  aim  of  philoso- 
phy, he  holds,  is  not  a doctrine,  but  a 
method,  and  it  is  itself,  when  precisely 
defined,  simpty  the  critical  determination 
of  the  limits  of  the  main  tendencies  in  oar 
faculty  of  consciousness.  These  tendencies 
are  two  — the  investigation  of  phenomena, 
and  speculation  upon  assumed  realities 
beyond  them.  Philosophy  has  a twofold 
function  — a negative,  whose  result  is  the 
critical  dissolution  of  all  the  synthetical 
principles  of  cognition  and  the  stripping 
them  of  *all  pretended  competence  to  the 
absolute  ; and  a positive,  affirming  the  right 
and  the  uses  of  the  free  exercise  of  the 
speculative  bent,  when  taken  no  longer  as 
knowledge,  but  as  a species  of  poesjr. 

The  doctrines  advanced  by  Lange  are 
carried  out  to  practical  conclusions  that 
challenge  an  anxious  attention.  On  the 
religious  question  he  aims  at  a purely 
ethical  position.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind 
above  all,  however,  that  he  has,  and  as  an 
agnostic,  can  have,  no  real  basis  for  ethics 
whatever  : to  talk  of  duty  towards  what 
we  know  to  be  mere  fantasy,  is  a hollow 
mockery.  One  religion  is  with  him  as 
good  as  another,  provided  and  so  long  as 
it  does  the  work  of  consecrating  the  Ideal 
and  giving  it  practical  influence  with  men. 
As  for  rationalizing  religion,  let  it  be 
done,  he  sajrs,  if  it  must  be  done,  in  the 
interest  of  culture  and  taste,  but  beware 
of  dreaming  that  in  this  way  you  aie 
getting  at  truth  ! The  Christian  religion, 
for  instance,  we  may  retain  in  spirit,  but 
in  letter,  no.  A thoroughgoing  review  of 
Lange’s  successive  positions  would  bring 
us  to  this  point : Lange  has,  in  fact,  unwit- 
tingly completed  the  demonstration  of  the 
absoluteness  of  human  knowdedge,  aud, 


Present  Aspects  of  Philosophy  in  Germany. 


36 

at  the  same  time,  demonstrated  the  nec- 
essary falsehood  of  materialism,  — not 
simply  the  permanent  impossibilit}'  of 
proving  it,  but  its  absolvte  impossibilit}’, 
for  he  has  removed  the  basis  for  even  its 
hypothesis.  He  has  shown  (1)  that  a 
thing-in-itself  does  not  exist;  (2)  that, 
as  notion,  it  involves  a self-contradic- 
tion, — an  element  whose  sphere  is  solely 
within  consciousness  putting  itself,  as  it 
were,  beyond  it ; (3)  that,  in  spite  of 
this,  we  must  continue  to  accept  this 
illusion,  which  compels  us  to  limit  our 
knowledge  to  experience  and  renounce  all 
•claim  to  its  being  absolute.  That  is,  the 
sole  cause  of  our  doubting  the  rigorous 
validity  of  our  knowledge  and  reducing  our 
cognition  to  the  mere  idiosyncrasy  of  one 
species  out  of  an  unknown  number  of  pos- 
sible orders  of  intelligent  beings , is  an  illu- 
sion ivhose  genesis  we  know — a contradiction 
that  we  distinctly  detect.  Then,  beyond  all 
controversy,  our  discrediting  and  limitation 
of  our  cognitive  faculty  is  an  error , and  ice 
are  to  correct  it  by  disregarding  the  cause. 
The  illusion  may  continue  to  play  upon 
us  forever,  but  being  detected,  it  is  com- 
pletely in  our  power,  so  far  as  its  affecting 
our  judgment  is  concerned.  And  as  a 
further  conclusion,  after  closer  analysis, 
it  becomes  plain  that  Lange  has  finally 
abandoned  the  Kantian  standpoint,  and, 
without  intending  it,  gone  really  back  to 
that  of  Locke,  where  he  and  his  followers 
may  be  left  to  the  thoroughgoing  surgery 
of  Hume. 

II.  [The  remainder  of  the  lecture  was 


devoted  to  a statement  of  the  philosophic 
movements  in  the  universities,  where  the 
most  interesting  phenomenon  is  that  pre- 
sented by  men  who  have  abandoned  a 
priori  ground  altogether,  and  are  laying 
the  foundation  for  an  empirical  metaphys- 
ics. It  is  singular  that  this  endeavor 
took  its  impulse  from  one  of  the  most 
intense  metaphysical  movements  of  the 
old-fashioned  kind  that  Germany  ever 
knew,  — the  philosophy  of  Herbart.  The 
aim  is  to  establish  a mechanics  of  mental 
experience,  to  do  for  psychology  what 
physics  has  done  for  natural  philosophy. 
The  labors  of  these  men  are  at  present, 
therefore,  expended  on  physiological  psy- 
chology and  psychophysics.  Professor 
Howison  referred,  in  closing,  to  the  philo- 
sophical situation  at  the  university  of 
Berlin,  in  the  winter  semester  of  1881-2, 
mentioning  particularly  the  venerable 
Michelet  and  his  refutation  of  the  charge 
of  being  a <L  left-wing”  Hegelian;  Zeller, 
with  his  five  or  six  hundred  listeners, — 
seeming  better  satisfied  with  Spinoza  than 
with  any  other  modern  thinker  ; Althaus, 
busy  with  psychology  and  Aristotle ; 
Paulsen,  an  empirical  pantheist,  most 
popular  of  all  except  Zeller  ; Dr.  Lasson, 
hardly  to  be  reckoned  more  than  a dilettante 
Hegelian  ; Dr.  Ebbinghaus,  representative 
of  the  psychophysical  empiricists ; Dr. 
Deussen,  lecturer  on  Hindoo  philosophy  ; 
and  Dr.  Gizycki,  an  empirical  evolutionist 
in  ethics  and  an  ardent  student  of  the 
English  moralists  of  the  last  century,  lec- 
turing on  Shaftesbury.] 


Poetry. 


37 


Fouiith  Day,  — July  20. 

POETKY. 

BY  JOHN  ALBEE.1 


OINCE  the  last  session  of  this  school 
^ four  men  have  died  who  have  largely 
affected  the  thought  and  the  imagination  of 
their  contemporaries.  Two  of  them,  Long- 
fellow and  Emerson,  were  poets  ; Darwin, 
a third,  was  not  much  less  so,  for  though 
he  modestly  reasoned  only  so  far  as  dis- 
covered facts  and  laws  permitted,  he  set 
free  the  imagination  in  contemplating  man 
and  nature.  The  generalizations  of  sci- 
ence are  anticipated  by  poetic  prescience  ; 
and  when  a poet  is  also  a man  of  science, 
like  Goethe,  we  see  how  easily  facts 
flow  into  verse.  Emerson  looked  the 
other  way ; he  gazed  backward  or  down- 
ward upon  objects,  having  gained  earl}' 
a commanding  station.  He  had  a syn- 
thetic prevision  of  scientic  law,  so  accu- 
rate indeed,  that  it  is  understood  that 
some  of  his  poetry  furnished  the  texts  and 
illustrations  to  the  labors  of  several  English 
savants.  It  seems  no  accidental  phrase  in 
Emerson,  but  an  all-pervading  sense  of 
the  unity,  of  the  likeness  in  nature.  The 
last  of  our  four  great  losses  is  Garibaldi, 
whose  actions  also  moved  the  imagination 
of  his  contemporaries.  His  career  was 
as  heroic  and  romantic  as  any  in  history, 
and  his  words  sometimes  resounded  with 
the  most  famous  passages  of  antiquity. 
I call  him  the  poet  of  action  ; Darwin,  of 
those  generalizations  which  are  poetic  on 
account  of  their  relation  to  the  origin  and 
destiny  of  man  ; Emerson,  of  insight ; and 
Longfellow,  an  elementary  poet. 

These  have  departed.  Each  now  rests 
in  a place  representative  of  his  genius. 

1 John  Albee  of  Newcastle,  N.  II.,  was  a student  at 
Phillips  (Andover)  Academy,  and  graduated  from  the 
Y'ale  theological  school  in  1853.  lie  is  author  of  an  article 


Emerson  among  the  ever-ruminating  pines  ; 
Longfellow  by  the  placid,  even-flowing 
Charles ; Darwin  under  the  slow-grow- 
ing English  oak  ; Garibaldi  by  the  tur- 
bulent Sea,  mother  of  all  famous  historic 
actions.  Most  of  the  other  great  poets 
of  our  time  are  now  ripe  in  years  and 
fame.  Their  work  is  not  free  and  stir- 
ring, but  reflective  and  memorial,  much 
too  sober,  and  it  was  from  the  begin- 
ning vitiated  with  excess  of  the  pathetic. 
Few  have  found  the  just  union  of  pure  in- 
tellectuality and  emotion.  The  tranquillity 
of  the  times  suits  well  with  their  years, 
and  our  manners  and  events  all  tend  to 
subdue  the  shrill  tone  of  any  youthful, 
dithyrambic  muse.  So  that  whatever 
voice  has  of  late  been  raised  in  song,  has 
sought  to  take  the  ear  with  wild  and  start- 
ling airs,  breaking  at  once  with  the  con- 
servative laws  of  versification,  or  the  pre- 
sumptive prejudices  of  readers. 

It  seems  a fitting  moment  to  resurvey 
the  realm  of  poetry,  to  examine  what  we 
have  gained,  what  is  the  present  prospect, 
what  the  future.  There  is  a singular  an- 
nouncement lately  made  by  John  Morley, 
that  a great  poet  is  about  to  appear. 
Having  followed  the  literary  studies  of 
Morley  for  some  years  and  examined  his 
charts  of  literary  history,  I understand  his 
belief.  Tabulate  any  class  of  social  facts 
and  there  is  noticeable  a regular  recur- 
rence of  those  of  similar  character.  There 
will  be  so  many  fools,  hydrocephali  and 
dwarfs,  and  so  many  mathematicians,  ten- 
ors and  poets.  Poets  frequently  come 

on  “Youth,”  published  in  the  first  volume  of  the  “Atlantic 
Monthly,”  has  written  many  poems  of  a high  order  of 
merit,  and  in  1S81  published  a volume  on  “ Literary  Art.” 


iii  groups,  like  wild  flowers,  in  neglected 
spots,  and  are  nurtured  by  nature.  So- 
ciety and  the  family  take  no  pains  to 
educate  or  encourage  a poet,  as  they  do 
a musician  or  merchant.  They  recognize 
him  as  something  above  their  creation  or 
tuition,  whose  culture  is  not  foreseen  by 
any  of  our  institutions.  Society  under- 
takes to  provide  for  mediocrity  and  to 
perpetuate  it ; whatever  is  above  or  below 
this  is  left  to  charity  or  chance.  As  the 
poet  is  not  the  product  of  another’s  will, 
nor  even  his  own,  he  may  be  looked  for 
among  that  order  of  things  presided  over 
by  destiiy. 

What  is  there  left  for  a new  poet  to 
sing?  Will  his  work  be  what  Matthew 
Arnold  requires  of  poetry,  that  it  shall  be 
a criticism  of  life  ; or  shall  he  fulfil  Emer- 
son’s demand,  that  he  penetrate  the  inmost 
meaning  of  the  symbol  and  report  what  it 
says?  He  will  not  subscribe  these  nor 
aiyr  expectations.  He  will  surprise  us 
with  something  better  than  we  can  imag- 
ine. All  the  absolute  and  ideal  require- 
ments which  have  been  formed  in  us  by 
admiration  of  separate  excellences  in  dif- 
ferent works,  will  be  enlarged  and  read- 
justed when  we  are  called  upon  to  examine 
and  criticise  a new  poet  or  artist.  We 
have  found  out,  through  a few  facts,  what 
is  durable  and  fixed  in  literaiy  reputation. 
Faust  is  a poem  which  touches  deeply 
the  problems  of  modern  life,  and  thus  far 
remains  its  one  adequate  historical  pict- 
ure. Meanwhile,  as  the  author  of  Faust 
said,  there  are  many  echoes,  each  of  which 
solicits  us  to  declare  it  the  authentic  voice 
of  the  time.  There  is  the  press,  whose 
claims  are  loud,  persistent  and  deceptively 
impersonal,  intended  to  make  us  believe  it 
is  our  own  opinions  and  experiences  we 
are  reading.  The  novel  next  asserts  itself 
the  true  literary  vehicle  and  portraiture  of 
social  life  and  manners.  Then  speak  those 
who  claim  the  scientific  interest  to  be  the 
undoubted  characteristic  of  the  times. 

I do  not  wish  to  magnify  the  poet’s 


work  unduly,  but  his  is  that  which  men 
hitherto  have  taken  most  care  in  preserv- 
ing. We  have  not  had  in  English  since 
Milton  a long  poem  of  sustained  power, 
able  to  take  its  place  in  the  company  of 
acknowledged  master-pieces,  although 
there  have  been  many  attempted.  The 
day  of  epic  and  dramatic  poetry  seems 
to  have  passed,  or  to  be  interrupted.  I 
have  no  doubt  the  form  of  the  next  im- 
mortal poem  will  be  either  epic  or  dra- 
matic, as  those  of  the  past  have  been.  For 
these  represent  the  two  strongest  natural 
intellectual  tendencies,  narration  and  re- 
flection, besides  which  they  admit,  from 
their  length,  many  other  forms  of  poetry, 
interludes,  lyrical  measures,  choruses,  etc. 
The  epic  and  the  drama  concern  either 
ethnic  or  religious  tradition.  Now  the  Eng- 
lish, and  in  fact  the  whole  Germanic  race 
has  had  no  distinct  and  universally  popu- 
lar tradition,  either  religious  or  heroic. 
It  has  no  central  idea,  either  of  its  past 
or  present.  It  has  one  idea  in  common, 
but  it  is  that  of  colonization  and  trade  ; it 
spreads  out,  but  never  centralizes ; and 
the  old  Teutonic  spirit  of  local  and  indus- 
trial independence  follows  it  like  a destiny, 
forbidding  all  hope  of  illustrious  pre-emi- 
nence in  language,  in  art,  and  in  litera- 
ture. Of  modern  nations  France  has 
gone  least  abroad  ; she  has  honored  her 
own  bounds,  and  has  sent  every  promis- 
ing talent  to  Paris.  She  has  taken  pains 
to  cultivate  her  language,  until  it  lias  all 
the  neatness  and  perspicuity,  and  all  the 
euphemistic  capacities  so  requisite  in  high 
civilization.  She  has  also  an  Academy 
founded  for  the  purpose  of  purifying  the 
language.  She  has  at  length  a dictionary. 
We  have  neither  an  academy  nor  diction- 
ary. Our  language  has  been  cultivated 
by  the  usage  of  men  of  imaginative  ge- 
nius ; this  slowly  filters  down  into  the 
common  stream  of  speech.  We  have  a 
very  limited  number  of  epic  words  conse- 
crated to  patriotic  and  religious  composi- 
tion. These  are  being  constantly  vulgar- 


Poetry. 


39 


ized,  so  who  can  wonder  at  the  evident 
struggle  for  startling  expression  of  some 
recent  English  and  American  poets. 

Poetry  is  the  greatest  conservator  and 
improver  of  language.  Our  language  at 
its  best  is  unfitted  to  be  the  delicate  in- 
strument of  thought  that  the  Greek  and 
Latin  were,  that  the  French  now  is.  It 
is  strong  for  commercial  uses  and  the 
industries,  for  purposes  of  public  oratory 
and  the  solemnities  of  the  church,  thanks 
to  the  strength  bequeathed  to  it  by  the 
old  translators  of  the  Bible.  For  all  sor- 
row it  has  twenty  words  to  two  for  gayety. 
As  compared  with  ancient  verse  our  poetry 
is  vague,  and  this  is  a characteristic  upon 
which  we  pride  ourselves,  having  a notion 
that  it  addresses  some  great  depth  in  us 
by  its  remoteness.  There  is  a great  work 
to  be  done  for  our  language  to  fit  it  to  be 
a more  perfect  instrument  and  vehicle  of 
thought.  We  want  a dictionary  that  shall 
be  something  more  than  a census  of  living 
words,  and  an  obituary  of  words  it  thinks 
dead  because  it  didn’t  see  them  yesterday 
or  the  day  before.  It  should  promote  in 
some  practicable  manner  the  most  musi- 
cal accent  of  words,  and  it  should  recog- 
nize the  fact  that  our  language  is  a com- 
posite one,  and  for  the  present  must  grow 
from  the  outside  ; and  as  its  growth  is  ar- 
bitrary, so  must  its  rules  be,  but  following 
some  rational  and  harmonious  plan. 

Poetical  matter  alone  can  give  the  true 
poetic  manner.  That  is  poetry  which 
makes  of  him  who  reads  it,  for  the  mo- 
ment, a poet.  No  religion,  no  politics, 
move,  men,  save  those  which  can  be 
hymned  or  sung.  There  is  a poetic  side 
to  all  reality  which  it  is  the  poet’s  privi- 
lege to  see  and  sing.  The  poet  speaks  to 
us  in  particulars,  the  generalizations  are 
our  own.  He  touches  the  realities  of  life, 
because  he  identifies  himself  with  his  sub- 
ject. That  which  can  reveal  a poetic  side 
is  the  valuable  element  in  history  and  life. 
It  alone  is  preserved  and  affects  men  long 
after  the}'  have  any  certain  knowledge  of 


facts.  We  want  Caesar,  Timon  and  Wolsey 
as  Shakespeare  conceived  them,  and  As- 
pasia  as  Landor  painted  her.  What  do 
the  relations  of  Dante  and  Beatrice,  of 
Laura  and  Petrarch,  the  loves  of  Catullus 
and  Goethe  signify  to  us?  The  descend- 
ants of  Laura  did  not  admit  her  connec- 
tion with  Petrarch  to  have  been  merely 
Platonic ! The  illusions  of  poetry  are 
better  than  the  realities  of  prose.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  the  poet  should 
explain  all  his  meanings ; that  is  what 
the  reader  must  do,  each  according  to 
his  mood  and  experience.  It  is  true  you 
may  see  anything  or  nothing  in  poetry. 
There  is  a point  of  view  from  which  the 
poet’s  world  seems  vain,  idle,  irrational. 
Yet  some  have  always  been  impressed 
with  the  surmise  that  it  contained  a secret 
not  quite  conveyed  by  the  poet.  But  in 
our  happiest  moments  striving  together, 
he  to  say  and  we  to  hear,  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  wise  things  are  made  clear. 

I have  already  spoken  of  the  fact  that 
our  race  has  no  universally  accredited  epic 
themes.  There  is  Paradise  Lost,  which 
is  a partial  exception.  It  contains,  or 
did  contain,  the  belief  of  a religious  sect 
as  well  as  its  polemics,  which  latter  pre- 
vent its  acceptance  as  an  epic  of  Chris- 
tianity. When  Milton  disencumbers  him- 
self of  his  too  obtrusive  dogmas  he  is 
great.  He  knew  how  to  produce  effects. 
The  modem  poet  dare  not  do  as  much. 
He  begins  moderately  ; he  conciliates ; 
he  is  self-conscious,  sensitive  and  re- 
strained ; he  is  no  longer  a beggar  and 
hanger-on,  but  is  comfortable  and  conven- 
tional ; has  an  honest  wife  and  children  ; 
he  has  property  and  leaves  a will.  The 
features  of  his  singing,  too,  have  changed  ; 
he  belongs  to  a coterie  ; he  has  a part}'  of 
new  views  ; he  is  a specialist,  a reformer, 
a dialect  student ; perhaps,  like  Whit- 
man, an  open  iconoclast,  with  a circle 
of  zealous  adherents. 

The  public  has  two  voices  onlv,  — of 
entire  approval  or  entire  indifference. 


4o 


Aristotle’s  uDe  Animal 


They  correspond  to  the  fate  of  the  poet, 
who  is  supposed  to  succeed  wholly  or  not 
at  all.  The  writing  of  poetry  is  a form 
of  self-culture  to  be  encouraged.  It  is  an 
attempt  to  find  expression  commensurate 
with  the  ideals  of  the  mind  and  spirit. 
We  must  write  for  ourselves  alone  before 
we  can  write  for  the  public.  Literature 
has  become  a profession  ; it  is  no  more  an 
accident  or  genius.  There  is  a demand 
for  an  American  literature,  but  that  limi- 
tation is  not  possible.  The  epoch  of  world 
literature  is  at  hand,  caused  by  the  facil- 
ities of  intercourse,  the  general  intelli- 
gence, and  the  curiosity  to  hear  and  know 
the  best  that  is  written  everywhere.  It  is 
not  in  the  realms  of  poetry,  but  in  science 
and  philosophy,  that  subjects  of  world- 
wide interest  are  found  ; and  the  poet  can 
only  attract  by  his  manner,  and  the  life 
with  which  be  endows  his  work. 

We  have  not  yet  fully  idealized  the  world 
about  us  ; it  is  still  too  near,  too  real,  too 
much  something  we  wish  to  possess,  to 


reform,  or  more  than  all,  to  explain  scien- 
tifically. Poetry  still  lurks  in  nature  and 
among  men  after  every  secret  has  been 
explored  ; things  exist  which,  after  every 
speculation  and  analysis,  are  so  rich  in 
mystery  that  poetry  may  ever  approach 
without  exhausting  them.  The  best 
poetry  has  a gesture,  like  that  of  a 
natural  orator,  which  conveys  more  than 
the  words.  Some  call  it  style,  or  boldly 
give  it  the  name  of  him  whose  gift  it  is, 
whose  being  is  so  much  deeper  than  his 
performance  that  it  strikes  involuntarily 
through.  The  happiest  thoughts  are  spon- 
taneous. If  we  can  idealize  well,  poetry 
is  all  about  us.  We  must  look  outside  the 
refinements  of  our  civilization  for  un- 
written poetry  ; we  must  look  beyond  the 
myriad,  commingling  literary  perform- 
ances, which  become  more  and  more  diffu- 
sive, commonplace  and  transient,  and 
believe  that  the  last,  best  expression  of 
man  will  be  poetry,  as  was  the  first. 


ARISTOTLE’S 

BY  DR. 

A RISTOTLE’S  work  on  the  Soul,  al- 
though  a small  book,  has  made  a 
great  impression  on  the  thinking  of  man- 
kind. It  is  a treatise  in  three  parts,  hav- 
ing thirty  chapters  in  all,  and  could  be 
printed  entire  on  a hundred  pages  octavo, 
with  large  clear  type.  It  contains  the  ap- 
plication of  the  highest  doctrines  reached 
by  Greek  speculation  to  the  knowledge  of 
what  is  most  interesting  to  man,  — his  spir- 
itual nature.  In  whatever  department 
Aristotle  worked  he  reached  distinctions 
that  were  fundamental,  and  gave  them 
technical  names  of  such  aptitude  that  the 
scientific  mind  of  all  subsequent  ages  has 
gladly  adopted  them.  To  state  the  first 
elements  of  any  science  relating  to  man  or 


“DE  ANIMA.” 

HARRIS. 

to  nature,  is  very  nearly  to  talk  the  lan- 
guage of  Aristotle.  To  use  a thinker’s 
technique,  is,  of  course,  in  some  measure 
to  accept  his  view  of  the1  world.  Dante, 
in  the  fourth  canto  of  the  “ Inferno,”  calls 
Aristotle  the  “ master  of  those  who  know” 
— that  is,  of  all  who  pursue  science.  80 
it  has  happened  in  this  book  on  the  Soul 
especially,  that  Aristotle’s  distinctions  and 
definitions  have  formed  the  nucleus  of  all 
spiritual  theories  in  psychology.  It  is 
therefore  profitable  for  us  to  go  over  the 
inventory  of  his  thoughts  when  we  are 
studying  the  history  of  philosophy,  and  in- 
vestigating the  origin  of  ideas  current  in 
our  times  and  weighing  their  value. 

In  the  metaphysics  of  Aristotle  one 


Aristotle’s  “ De  Anirria 


41 


finds  a sort  of  dialectic  investigation  of 
principles  in  nature,  with  a view  to  dis- 
cover what  is  the  first  principle.  He  dis- 
cusses at  length  the  phenomena  of  motion, 
as  all  sense-perception  deals  with  such 
phenomena,  and  without  motion  there 
could  be  nothing  to  perceive  by  the  senses. 
He  finds  a presupposition  underlying  all 
movement ; to  wit,  essential  energy  and 
self-activity.  For  no  energy  can  be  im- 
parted to  other  beings  and  no  motion  can 
be  caused  in  anything  else  unless  it  first 
exist  in  itself.  In  every  totality  or  inde- 
pendent being,  therefore,  there  must  be  self- 
activity or  self-determination. 

Further  discrimination  in  this  thought 
enables  him  to  identity  self-activity  with 
mind.  In  that  sublime  chapter  of  the 
eleventh  book  of  the  Metaphysics  he  de- 
clares the  highest  principle  to  be  an  unin- 
terrupted and  eternal  life,  a pure  thinking 
activity  who  is  God.  The  primordial 
principle  that  produces  all  things  and  ex- 
plains all  things  is  mind  ; therefore  we 
shall  expect  that  in  his  treatise  on  the 
Soul  he  will  show  us  how  lower  forms  par- 
ticipate in  this  highest  of  all  principles, 
and  lie  will  arrange  in  an  ascending  series 
the  existences  that  possess  self-determina- 
tion in  any  degree.  He  will  show  us  the 
relation  of  man’s  highest  mental  activity 
to  the  Divine  principle.  On  his  treatment 
of  this  question  of  the  soul  will  turn  the 
answer  to  all  questions  that  arise  regarding 
the  destiny  of  man,  if  his  system  is  fol- 
lowed. 

Averrhoes  may  understand  him  to  deny 
immortality  to  that  part  of  the  mind  which 
gives  individual  self-consciousness  to  man, 
and  with  him  the  force  of  Aristotle’s  sci- 
ence will  go  to  destroy  the  hope  on  which 
the  Christian  religion  is  founded.  Alber- 
tus  Magnus  may  study  Aristotle’s  entire 
works  so  profoundly  that  he  can  bring  to 
bear  on  each  sentence,  for  its  interpreta- 
tion, every  other  passage  in  the  works  of 
Aristotle  and  by  this  prove  that  Aristotle 
himself  and  the  logical  consequences  of  his 


system  both  favor  the  doctrine  of  immor- 
tality, and  even  furnish  for  it  an  irrefrag- 
able demonstration.  Such  things  did  hap- 
pen, and  we  now  read  the  book  after  the 
events  have  transpired  and  look  upon  a 
world-famous  product  of  thought  and 
learning,  although  in  our  age  it  is  very  little 
studied  at  first  hand  for  correct  doctrine 
regarding  psychology. 

The  first  of  the  three  books  on  the  soul 
is  historical  and  critical,  according  to  the 
method  of  Aristotle.  The  doctrines  of 
Leucippus,  Democritus,  the  Pythagoreans, 
Anaxagoras,  Thales,  Alcmaeon,  and  like- 
wise of  Plato’s  “Phsedon”  and  “Tiimeus” 
are  discussed  exhaustively  in  the  light  of 
his  theory  of  motion  in  space.  Motion  in 
space  is  one  thing  and  pure  self-activity  is 
quite  another  affair.  The  carelessness  of 
the  Pythagoreans  and  Platonists  allowed 
them  to  use  words  technically  to  describe 
the  soul’s  activity  that  could  not  be  liter- 
ally applied  to  it.  They  employed  the 
terms  first  symbolically  and  then  literally. 
Figuratively,  the  soul  may  be  called  a 
“ self-moving  number,”  with  Xenocrates 
of  Chalcedon,  but  to  try  to-  realize  self- 
motion  as  in  space  and  time  according  to 
the  ordinary  literal  meaning  of  the  words, 
involves  absurdity.  Possibly  Aristotle  ex- 
hibits a little  spleen  in  this  work  and  in 
the  Metaphysics”  when  he  combats  the 
statements  of  his  master  Plato,  from  whom 
he  had  learned  his  doctrine  of  the  highest 
principle.  But  the  disciples  of  Plato  who 
taught  at  the  Academy  after  Plato’s  death 
took  Plato’s  tropes  and  metaphors  as  lit- 
eral statements,  and  there  was  no  hope  for 
science  and  clear  thinking  amid  such  an 
orgy  of  fancy  and  dreaming,  unless  one 
insisted  on  holding  the  propounders  of 
doctrines  responsible  for  the  literal  mean- 
ing of  their  words.  The  soul  cannot  be 
the  blood  of  the  animal,  or  the  seed  of  the 
plant,  nor  can  it  be  heat  or  cold  or  moist- 
ure ; it  cannot  be  a harmony,  nor  a secre- 
tion of  anj'  organ  ; nor  can  it  be  a mixture 
of  all  the  elements  of  nature,  so  that  each 


42 


Aristotle’s  uDe  Anima .” 


element  knows  its  own  in  the  world  ; nor 
can  it  be  a curved  line  returning  to  itself 
according  to  harmonic  proportions  like  the 
orbits  of  the  planets  ; nor  can  the  soul  be 
a magnitude,  nor  a quality  of  something  ; 
nor  can  it  be  an  atom. 

All  material  analogies  adduce  things 
that  have  mutual  exclusion  ; they  are  divis- 
ible and  dependent  on  external  limits ; 
thej*  relate  to  what  is  beyond  ; but  the  at- 
tributes of  soul  exhibit  inclusion,  mutual 
participation,  community  of  possession, 
and  freedom  from  limitation  to  the  partic- 
ular here  and  now  present ; they  have 
self-relation.  For  the  soul  feels  in  the 
sense  of  touch  over  the  whole  surface  of 
its  bod}',  and  lias  at  the  same  time  distinct 
avenues  of  perception  in  the  higher  senses 
of  taste  and  smell,  of  hearing  and  seeing. 
In  the  plant  it  reproduces  itself  in  multiple 
copies  of  its  species  — the  acorn  passing 
through  the  phases  of  sprout,  sapling, 
trunk,  branch,  leaf,  blossom,  and  returning 
to  itself  not  as  the  same  acorn,  but  as  a 
crop  of  the  same  kind  of  acorns.  All 
natural  objects  have  motion  in  space. 
Soul  cannot  be  motion  in  space,  not  even 
self-motion,  because  motion,  too,  like  ex- 
tension in  space,  implies  division  and  sep- 
aration and  dependence.  The  mind  even 
in  its  lowest  activities  can  preserve  its 
identity  in  the  presence  of  change  and 
motion. 

Aristotle  combats  metempsychosis.  Af- 
ter this  polemic,  he  comes  in  the  second 
and  third  books  to  present  his  own  positive 
doctrines  — laying  down  his  definitions 
and  illustrating  them.  He  finds  the  first 
form  to  be  the  vegetative  soul,  — life  as  it 
appears  in  plants  ; this  he  calls  the  nutri- 
tive soul,  including  the  reproductive  and 
sustaining  activities.  Next  is  the  feeling 
soul,  possessed  of  sensation  and  accom- 
panied with  locomotion.  The  feeling  soul 
characterizes  the  animal.  The  rational 
soul  is  peculiar  to  man.  Man  is  rational 
and  feeling  and  nutritive  ; the  animal,  feel- 
ing and  nutritive;  the  plant,  solely  nutri- 


tive. Aristotle  discusses  the  nature  of 
feeling  and  the  other  senses  in  Book  Sec- 
ond. In  the  first  part  of  Book  Third  he 
treats  of  the  question  of  the  relation  of  the 
senses  to  their  objects  and  to  each  other, 
and  then  proceeds  to  the  faculty  of  imagi- 
nation or  phantasy,  which  forms  the  trans- 
ition to  the  highest  power,  the  reason 
{Nous).  In  the  fourth  and  fifth  chapters 
he  states  the  characteristics  of  reason,  or 
the  thinking  activity,  and  in  the  following 
three  chapters  he  adds  a commentary  on 
his  doctrine.  After  this  he  discusses  in- 
stinct and  the  power  of  locomotion,  and 
closes  with  an  investigation  of  the  necessity 
for  just  five  senses. 

The  topic  of  crowning  importance  is  the 
reason  or  Nous,  which  Aristotle  considers 
under  two  forms  — the  active  and  the  pas- 
sive reason.  The  thinking  principle  by 
itself  is  pure  energy,  and  this  is  the  active 
reason,  while  the  passive  reason  includes 
the  activities  of  memory  and  discursive  in- 
tellect, etc.  The  passive  intellect  is 
caused  by  the  energy  of  the  active  intellect, 
which  is  separable  from  the  body,  and  im- 
mortal. The  doctrine  of  the  separability 
of  the  rational  soul  from  the  body  is  very 
subtly  discussed  by  Aristotle,  although  his 
discussion  has  no  more  subtlety  than  the 
same  doctrine  in  any  modern  system  of 
depth  and  comprehensiveness.  It  re- 
quires an  acquaintance  with  his  metaphysi- 
cal doctrines  of  energy,  entelechy,  sub- 
stance, and  especially  that  of  potentiality. 
The  far-famed  doctrine  that  the  soul  is  a 
tabula  rasa  is  derived  from  the  fourth 
chapter  of  the  third  book  of  “ De  Anima,” 
and  is  a good  example  of  the  way  in  which 
metaphysical  doctrines  may  be  perverted 
by  not  understanding  the  connections  in 
which  they  stand.  Aristotle  is  showing 
the  actual  separability  of  the  reason  from 
the  body  by  discussing  its  power  to  make 
and  unmake  its  ideas  — dismissing  from 
mind  what  it  has  called  up,  and  having  the 
power  to  form  and  unform  ideas  in  regard 
to  all  things.  The  passive  side  of  the  ac- 


Scottish  Philosophy . 


43 


tivity  that  forms  ideas  is  of  coarse  the 
mere  potential ity  of  any  and  all  ideas,  as 
it  can  be  shaped  into  any  idea  by  the  ac- 
tive power  of  the  mind,  and  is  thus  like  a 
tablet  on  which  nothing  has  been  written. 
The  reason  can  think  itself  and  does  think 
itself ; so  that  subject  and  object  are  both 
the  same.  When  thought  has  itself  for  its 
object  it  is  distinct  and  separate  from 
body,  and  in  all  the  lower  forms  of  the 


passive  reason  the  active  reason  perceives 
itself  through  its  effects  or  its  self-limita- 
tions. 

The  lecturer  occupied  the  greater  part 
of  the  hour  in  discussing  and  explaining 
Aristotle’s  metaphysical  distinctions  and 
in  defending  his  viewrs  of  nutrition,  feeling, 
imagination  and  thought,  holding  that  Ar- 
istotle saw  personal  immortality  with  per- 
fect clearness. 


Fifth  Day,  — July  21. 

THE  SCOTTISH  PHILOSOPHY. 

BY  JAMES  ML'COSH.  LL.D. , D.L.1 


f | TIE  Scottish  philosophy  is  distin- 
guislred  by  several  marked  character- 
istics. First,  it  proceeds  throughout  by 
observation.  It  begins  and  ends  with 
facts  after  the  manner  recommended  by 
Francis  Bacon.  Second,  it  observes  the 
operations  of  the  mind  by  the  inner  sense 
— that  is,  self-consciousness, — it  being 
always  aided  by  the  observation  of  the 
minds  of  others  as  intimated  by  their 
words,  writings  and  deeds,  which  we  can 
understand  because  we  have  a conscious- 
ness of  our  own  states.  No  one  can  come 
to  know  the  peculiar  qualities  of  the  mind 
by  the  external  senses,  such  as  sight  or 
touch.  Third,  bjr  observation  principles 
are  discovered  which  are  above  observa- 
tion, universal  and  eternal.  This  is  the 
peculiarity  of  the  Scottish  school.  We 
can  give  the  marks  of  these  principles. 
(1.)  The}-  are  self-evident.  The  truth  is 

1 James  MeCosh  was  born  in  Ayrshire,  Scotland,  in 
1811,  and  was  educated  at  the  universities  of  Glasgow  and 
Edinburgh.  He  was  ordained  minister  of  the  Church  of 
Scotland  in  1835,  and  was  active  in  the  discussions  which 
resulted  in  the  disruption  of  the  Scottish  Church  and  in 
the  organization  of  the  Free  Church.  He  was  elected 
President  of  the  College  of  Kew  Jersey  at  Princeton,  in 
1868.  lie  received  the  degree  of  S.T.D.  from  Harvard 


perceived  at  once  by  looking  at  things. 
They  are  not  forms  or  laws  in  the  mind 
apart  from  things.  They  are  intuitions  of 
things.  (2.)  They  are  necessary,  as  was' 
held  by  Aristotle,  Leibnitz,  Kant,  and  most 
profound  thinkers.  Being  self-evident 
we  must  hold  them  and  cannot  be  made 
to  think  or  believe  otherwise.  (3.)  They 
are  universal,  being  held  by  all  men.  (4.) 
The  study  of  the  mind  may  be,  not  con- 
structed, but  aided  by  the  observation  of 
the  nerves  and  brain. 

But,  it  is  asked,  how  do  you  reconcile 
your  one  side  or  aspect  with  the  other, 
your  observation  with  your  truth  anterior 
to  observation?  I hold  that  there  are 
principles  in  the  mind  called  primary 
reason,  common  sense,  intuition,  prior  to 
and  independent  of  any  notice  of  them  by 
us  ; but  I also  hold,  and  this  in  perfect 
consistency,  that  it  is  b}*  observation  we 

University,  in  1868;  of  LL.D.  from  Washington  and  Jef- 
ferson College,  Pa.,  in  the  same  year;  also,  the  degree  of 
LL.D.  from  Aberdeen  and  the  Queen’s  University  of  Ire- 
land, and  S.T.D.  from  Brown  in  1868.  He  is  author  of 
many  philosophical  works,  including  “ Method  of  the 
Divine  G-overnment,  Physical  and  Moral,”  “Intuitions,” 
“ An  Examination  of  Mill’s  Philosophy,”  and  “ The  Laws 
of  Discursive  Thought.” 


44 


S coltish  Ph  Uosophy . 


discover  that  they  exist  ancl  wbatthey  aie. 
I have  found  it  difficult  to  make  some 
people  understand  and  fall  in  with  this 
double  truth.  Historians  and  critics  of 
philosophy  are  apt  to  divide  all  philoso- 
phers into  two  grand  schools,  the  a priori 
and  a posteriori , or,  in  other  words,  the 
rational  and  experiential.  They  are  averse 
to  calling  in  a third  school  which  would 
disturb  all  their  classifications.  I have 
sometimes  felt  in  consequence  as  if  I were 
placed  between  two  contending  armies, 
exposed  to  the  fire  of  both. 

When  Newton  discovered  the  law  of 
gravitation  nobody  imagined  that  he 
created  it.  So  it  is  with  the  fundamental 
principles  that  are  in  the  mind.  They  are 
in  the  mind ; the}'  operate  and  can  be 
discovered,  and  their  operations  ean  be 
generalized  and  expressed  in  law.  Being 
unfolded  and  put  in  form,  they  constitute 
a mental  philosophy  which  is  true  so  far 
as  the  principles  are  properly  observed 
and  formulated. 

The  rival  of  the  Scottish  school  in  the 
present  day  is  the  German  philosophy. 
Reid  and  Kant  are  the  respective  repre- 
sentatives. Reid  is  cautious  and  shrinks 
from  extreme  positions.  Kant  is  severely 
logical,  and  accepts  the  conclusions  to 
which  his  system  leads.  They  agree  in 
very  important  points ; both  believe  in 
principles  prior  to  experience.  But  they 
differ  in  the  view  which  they  take  of 
them. 

I.  The  Scottish  philosophy  follows  the 
inductive  method,  with  consciousness  as 
the  agent  of  observation.  The  German 
adopts  the  critical  method,  which  follows 
logic,  and  has  given  us  one  criticism  after 
another. 

II.  The  Scottish  looks  on  what  is  re- 
vealed by  sense  and  consciousness  as  facts , 
and  seeks  to  co-ordinate  them.  The  Ger- 
man regards  them  as  phenomena  in  the 
sense  of  appearances.  The  one  assumes 
them  as  facts,  and  all  its  generalizations'  are 
reasonings  which  relate  to  facts.  The 


other  does  not  assume  them  as  facts,  and 
from  its  premises  or  assumptions  can 
never  reach  facts  or  realities.  The  truth 
is  that  there  never  can  be  appearances 
without  things  appearing.  Phenomena 
properly  understood  are  things  appearing. 
Kant’s  doctrine  of  appearances  has  cul- 
minated in  the  unknown  and  unknowable 
of  Herbert  Spencer.  Kant  was  far  from 
being  an  agnostic,  but  he  proceeds  on  a 
principle  which  is  the  ground  of  agnos- 
ticism. 

III.  Reid  made  the  mind  perceive 
things  as  they  are.  Kant  made  the  mind 
add  to  things  out  of  its  own  subjective 
stores,  and  thus  led  to  idealism.  Dr. 
McCoslr  then  spoke  as  follows  of  a future 
philosophy  in  America : 

“ Back  to  Kant”  is  the  cry  in  our  day 
of  the  younger  German  school,  re-echoed 
by  the  speculative  youth  of  America. 
Yes,  I say,  back  to  Kant,  who  was  a wiser 
man  and  held  more  truth  than  most  of 
those  who  claim  to  be  descended  from 
him,  and  who  have  arrived  at  conclusions 
which  he  would  have  resolutely  repudiated 
had  they  been  made  known  to  him.  Yes, 
back  to  Kant ; but  do  not  stop  there. 
Back  to  Reid,  back  to  Locke,  back  to  Des- 
cartes, back  to  Bacon,  back  to  Saint 
Thomas,  back  to  Augustine,  back  to 
Marcus  Aurelius,  back  to  Cicero,  back  to 
Aristotle,  back  to  Plato.  All  of  these 
have  expounded  much  truth.  Let  us 
covet  the  best  gifts  and  accept  them 
wherever  they  are  offered,  in  ancient 
Greece  and  Koine,  in  Germany,  in  Great 
Britain,  in  America.  Let  us  choose  what 
is  good  in  our  elections.  The  method  of  the 
philosophy  of  Scotland  may  give  us  the 
magnet  wherewith  to  draw  out  the  genuine 
steel  from  the  dross  mixtures.  When  we 
go  back  to  Kant  let  it  be  to  criticise  his 
critical  method  and  its  results. 

Our  thinking  young  men  in  America, 
having  no  very  influential  philosophy  in 
their  own  country,  and  with  no  names 
to  rule  them,  are  taking  longing  looks 


Scottish  Philosojjhy. 


45 


toward  Germany.  When  circumstances 
admit,  they  go  a year  or  two  to  a German 
university,  to  Berlin  or  to  Leipsic.  There 
they  get  into  a labyrinth  of  imposing  and 
binding  forms,  and  have  to  go  on  in  the 
paths  opened  to  them.  They  return  with 
an  imposing  nomenclature  and.  clothed 
with  an  armor  formidable  as  the  panoply 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  They  write  papers 
and  deliver  lectures,  which  are  read  and 
listened  to  with  the  profoundest  reverence  ; 
some,  however,  doubting  whether  all  these 
distinctions  are  as  correct  as  the}"  are 
subtle,  whether  these  speculations  are  as 
sound  as  they  are  imposing. 

All  students  may  get  immeasurable 
good  from  the  study  of  the  German  phi- 
losophy. I encourage  my  students  to  go 
to  Germany  for  a time.  But  let  them, 
meanwhile,  maintain  their  independence. 
They  may  be  the  better  for  a clew  to  help 
them  out  of  the  labyrinth  in  which  they 
are  wandering.  The  children  of  Israel 
got  vast  good  in  the  wilderness  as  they 
wandered,  saw  wonders  in  the  pillar  of 
cloud  and  fire,  in  the  waters  issuing  from 
the  rock  and  the  manna  on  the  ground  ; 
but  thej"  longed  all  the  while  to  get  into  a 
land  of  rest,  with  green  fields  and  living 
waters.  We  may  all  get  incalculable  good 
from  German  speculation,  but  let  us  bring 
it  all  to  the  standard  of  consciousness  and 
of  fact. 

I should  be  sorry  to  find  our  young 
American  thinkers  spending  their  whole 
time  and  thought  in  expounding  Kant  or 
Hegel.  Depend  upon  it,  the  German 
philosophy  will  not  be  transplanted  into 
America  and  grow  healthily  till  there  is  a 
change  to  suit  it  to  the  climate.  By  all 
means  let  us  welcome  the  German  phi- 
losophy into  this  country  as  we  do  the 
German  emigrants,  but  these  emigrants, 
when  they  arrive,  have  to  learn  our  lan- 
guage and  accommodate  themselves  to 
our  laws  and  customs.  Let  us  subject  its 
philosophy  to  a like  process.  Let  us  do 
the  same  with  the  Scottish  philosophy. 


Let  us  take  all  that  is  good  in  it  and  noth- 
ing else,  and  what  is  good  in  it  is  its 
method. 

It  is  one  of  the  excellences  of  the  Scot- 
tish school  that  it  does  not  profess,  like 
some  of  the  German  systems,  to  have  dis- 
covered all  truth,  all  about  God  and  man 
and  nature.  It  is  reckoned  by  many  like 
the  country  from  which  it  has  sprung, 
— narrow  and  confined  ; some  of  us  have 
had  to  emigrate  from  the  old  country, 
seeking  wider  openings  elsewhere.  That 
philosophy  has  certainly  not  yet  taken 
possession  of  the  whole  territory  of  truth, 
and  there  are  regions  open  to  it  wide  as 
the  uncultivated  lands  of  America,  invit 
ing  all  to  enter. 

The  Scottish  philosophy,  if  true  to  its 
principles,  should  welcome  truth  from 
whatever  quarter  it  may  come,  provided  it 
submits  to  be  tried  by  an  inductive  en- 
trance examination.  For  myself,  I believe 
with  Plato,  and  I may  add,  with  the  Con- 
cord school,  that  there  is  a grand  and, 
indeed,  a divine  Idea,  formed  after  the 
image  of  God  and  pervading  all  nature ; 
but  I wish  that  idea  in  the  mind  carefully 
examined  and  its  form  or  law  exactly  de- 
termined, and  it  is  for  inductive  science, 
and  not  speculation,  to  tell  us  what  are 
the  laws  and  types  which  represent  it  in 
nature.  I hold  with  Aristotle  that  there 
are  formal  and  final,  as  well  as  material 
and  efficient  causes  in  nature  ; but  it  is  for 
a careful  induction  to  determine  the  rela- 
tions of  these  and  to  show  how  matter  and 
force  are  made  to  work  for  order  and  ends. 
I am  as  sure  as  Descai’tes  was  that  there 
is  in  the  mind  a germ  of  the  idea  of  the  in- 
finite and  the  perfect,  but  I take  my  own 
way  of  showing  what  is  the  nature  of  these 
ideas  so  as  to  keep  us  from  drawing  ex- 
travagant inferences  from  them.  I see, 
as  Leibnitz  did,  a pre-established  harmony 
in  nature,  but  it  consists  mainly,  not  in 
things  acting  independently  of  each  other, 
but  in  things  being  made  to  act  on  each 
other.  I attach  as  much  importance  to 


46 


Scottish  Philosophy. 


experience  as  Locke  did,  but  I maintain 
that  observation  shows  us  principles  in 
the  mind  prior  to  all  experience.  I allow 
to  Ivant  his  forms  and  his  categories  and 
his  ideas,  but  their  nature  is  to  be  discov- 
ered by  induction,  when  it  will  be  found 
that  the}7  do  not  superinduce  qualities  or 
things,  but  simply  enable  us  to  perceive 
what  is  in  things.  I believe  with  Schclling 
in  intuition,  looking  at  realities.  I atn 
constrained  to  hold  with  Hegel  that  there 
is  an  Absolute,  but  I believe  that  our 
knowledge  is  finite,  implying  an  infinite, 
and  that  this  doctrine  can  be  so  enunciated 
as  not  to  issue  in  pantheism. 

I reject  with  the  school  of  Concord  a 
sensationalism  which  derives  all  our  ideas 
from  the  senses,  and  a materialism  which 
develops  mind  out  of  molecules  ; but  I am 
anxious  that  the  physiology  of  the  nerves 
and  brain  should  aid  us  in  finding  out  the 
operation  of  the  laws  of  the  mind.  I turn 
away  with  scorn  from  the  pessimism  of 
Schopenhauer  and  Yon  Hartmann,  but  I 
believe  they  have  done  good  by  calling 
attention  to  the  existence  of  evil,  to  re- 
move which  is  an  end  worthy  of  the  labors 
and  suffering  of  the  Son  of  God.  I 
believe  with  Herbert  Spencer  in  a vast 
unknown,  above,  beneath  and  around  us, 
but  I rejoice  in  the  light  shining  in  the 
darkness.  With  all  unsophisticated  men, 
I see  a power  above  nature  in  nature,  but 
I reject  the  doctrine  of  “ gods  many  and 
lords  many,”  as  held  by  the  majority  of 
nations.  I am  willing  to  accept  the  whole 
body  of  grand  ideas  which  the  Concord 
school  has  been  holding  before  the  eyes  of 
the  Americans  for  the  past  age  ; but  it  is 
because  I believe  they  have  a place  in  the 
mind,  and  I am  not  always  willing  to  take 
them  in  the  form  in  which  they  have  been 
put.  I receive  with  gratitude  the  casket 
of  gems  which  Emerson  has  left  us  as  a 
rich  inheritance,  but  before  they  can  con- 


stitute a philosophy  they  must  lie  cut  and 
set ; and  they  will  require  a skilful  hand  to 
adjust  them,  and  if  they  are  cut,  it  must 
be  as  carefully  as  diamonds  are,  and  then 
only  to  show  more  fully  their  true  form 
and  beauty. 

I have,  rather  been  advising  our  young 
men  not  to  seek  to  transplant  the  German 
philosophy  entire  into  America,  but  as 
little  do  I wish  them  to  transplant  the 
Scottish  philosophy.  It  is  time  America 
had  a philosophy  of  its  own.  It  is  now 
getting  a literature  of  its  own,  a poetry  of 
its  own,  a school  of  painting  of  its  own  ; 
let  it  also  have  a philosophy  of  its  own. 
It  should  not  seek  to  be  independent  of 
European  thought.  The  people,  whether 
they  will  or  not,  whether  the}7  acknowledge 
it  or  not,  are  evidently  the  descendants 
of  Europeans,  to  whom  they  owe  much. 
They  have  come  from  various  countries, 
but  on  arriving  here  they  take  a character 
of  their  own.  So  let  it  be  with  your  phi- 
losophy. It  ma}7  be  a Scoto-German- 
American  school.  It  may  take  the 
method  of  the  Scotch,  the  high  truths  of 
the  Germans,  and  combine  them  with  the 
practical  invention  of  the  Americans. 
But  no,  let  it  in  fact  be  in  name  and  pro- 
fession an  independent  school.  As  be- 
cometh  the  country,  it  may  not  take  a 
monarchical  form  under  one  leader,  like 
the  European  systems.  Let  it  rather  be 
a republican  institution,  with  separate 
States  and  a central  unity.  To  accomplish 
this,  let  it  not  be  contented  witli  the 
streams  whicli  have  lost  their  coolness 
from  the  long  course  pursued  and  become 
polluted  by  earthly  ingredients,  but  go  at 
once  to  the  fountain,  the  mind  itself, 
which  is  as  fresh  as  it  ever  was,  and  as 
open  to  you  as  it  was  to  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle, to  Locke  and  lleid,  to  Kant  and 
Hamilton. 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts, 


47 


IDOLS  AND  ICONOCLASTS. 

BY  MRS.  JULIA  WARD  HOWE.1 


T ASK  myself  at  the  beginning  of  this 
paper  whether  it  can  be  worth  while  for 
me  to  embark  upon  an  inconclusive  discus- 
sion. I see  in  my  mind’s  eye  a long,  dark 
gallery  between  whose  parallel  sides  the 
imagination  of  man  has  dreamed  and 
wrought.  I see  it  peopled  with  forms, 
beautiful  and  hateful,  beneficent  and  de- 
structive. I see  it  strewn  with  the  frag- 
ments of  forms  which  are  presently  swept 
away.  The  void  does  not  long  continue. 
New  forms  nowr  fill  the  place  of  the  dis- 
carded ones.  And  while  the  twofold  la- 
bor of  making  and  unmaking  goes  on,  the 
vast  strophe  and  antistrophe  of  human 
affection  cries  out  on  the  one  hand,  “ I 
believe,”  and  on  the  other,  “I  doubt.” 

The  forms  devised  by  the  imagination 
are  very  dear  to  the  human  heart.  They 
are  idols,  imaging  the  Divine  as  well  as  we 
can  image  him.  They  have  their  use,  their 
time,  also  their  limit.  We  thank  the  artist 
who  sets  them  -within  the  shrine.  We 
thank,  still  more  fervently,  the  reformer 
who  overthrows  them.  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  all  this?  Is  the  mind  of  humanity 
only  a sea,  with  eternal  flux  and  reflux  of 
the  same  waters?  To  man}T  thinkers  it 
seems  so.  And  how  many,  finding  moored 
in  some  convenient  slip  the  bark  Authority, 
unwilling  to  breast  the  billows  with  their 
own  muscles,  leap  on  board,  and  ask  onty 
to  be  kept  out  of  the  surging  tide,  and 
carried  some-whither ! 

Beautiful  are  the  idols,  mysteriously  con- 

1  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  was  born  in  New  York,  May 
27,  1819,  and  in  1813  was  married  to  Dr.  Samuel  Gridley 
Howe,  who  was  widely  known  in  connection  with  the 
l’erkins  Institution  for  the  Blind  in  South  Boston,  Mass. 
She  is  author  of  sevearl  volumes  of  poems,  including 
“ Passion  Flowers,”  published  in  1854,  “ Words  for  the 
Hour,”  in  1856,  and  “ Later  Lyrics,”  in  1866.  Her  drama, 
“ The  World’s  Own,”  was  published  in  1855,  and  “ Hip- 
polytus,”  in  1858.  Two  volumes  of  travel  have  also  come 


ceived  in  the  mind  of  the  artist ; a life,  a 
personality  is  theirs  which  our  criticism 
cannot  fathom.  This  Apollo,  this  Jove, 
this  Juno,  are  full  of  the  power  of  govern- 
ment. Criticise  these  forms  as  coldly  as 
you  will,  for  us  thej'  have  a birth,  an 
immortal  life  of  their  own.  We  relate 
ourselves  to  them.  We  commune  with 
a spirit  which  makes  itself  felt  in  them. 
When  we  leave  them,  we  think  of  them  as 
filling  with  their  presence  the  place  in 
which  we  have  seen  them.  Were  we  to 
learn  tomorrow  that  they  had  been  de- 
stroyed, burned  in  the  lime-kiln,  they 
would  still  live  for  us.  The  offence  of 
Satan,  and,  so  far  as  we  can  trace  it,  the 
origin  of  evil,  seems  to  lie  in  the  exagger- 
ation and  consequent  derangement  of  one 
element  which  is  itself  essential  in  the  di- 
vine economy.  Our  imagination  creates 
a will  and  intelligence  exterior  to  our 
own,  while  our  real  adversary  is  a ten- 
dency in  our  own  will,  and  one  which  is 
essential  to  its  freedom.  This  power  of  re- 
sistance to  the  established  order  of  the  uni- 
verse has  property  a passive  function. 
Excited  by  our  imagination  in  league  with 
our  pltysical  sensibilities,  it  becomes  ac- 
tive. From  defensive  it  becomes  offensive  ; 
from  simple  nature  it  becomes  sin.  Hav- 
ing but  a relative  office  and  value,  it 
assumes  an  absolute  position.  Its  opposi- 
tion must  run  to  a certain  length  before  the 
original  central  attraction,  drawing  it  back, 
can  enable  it  to  complete  its  orbit.  You 

from  her  pen,  and  many  philosophical  and  social  papers. 
She  is  a well-known  public  lecturer  and  speaker,  and  an 
editor  of  the  “ Woman’s  Journal.”  In  the  social  world, 
especially  at  Newport,  R.  I.,  where  she  makes  her  summer 
home,  her  name  is  quite  familiar.  She  is  probably  best 
known  to  the  American  people  as  author  of  the  “Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic,”  so  popular  in  war  times,  begin- 
ning, 

“ Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord." 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts. 


48 


will  remember  some  kindred  speculations 
of  Plato  on  the  relative  value  of  the  man 
who  has  a greater  or  a less  capacity  for 
wrong  doing. 

But  the  law  of  Moses,  you  will  say,  and 
the  Christian  dispensation,  equally  forbid 
the  worship  of  idols.  The  Hebrew  tem- 
ples harbored  them  not,  and  we  who  fol- 
low Christ  are  doubly  delivered  from  them. 
All  the  wisdom  and  influence  of  Moses, 
all  the  priestly  and  prophetic  power  of  the 
Hebrew  church,  did  not  suffice  to  keep  the 
Hebrew  people  from  idolatry.  Nor  has 
Christ’s  whip  of  small  cords  availed  to  keep 
idolatry  out  of  the  temples  dedicated  to 
his  faith.  Look  at  the  Romish  and  Greek 
churches,  all  over  the  world.  From  the 
latter,  sculpture  is  banished  ; but  in  both 
you  will  see  lamps  lit  and  candles  burning 
before  the  painted  image  of  saint,  Savior, 
and  Madonna.  To  the  multitude,  the 
image  itself  possesses  saving  and  pardon- 
ing power.  To  the  better  instructed,  the 
personage  represented,  not  the  picture,  has 
the  power.  Is  not  one  as  much  an  idol  as 
the  other  ? 

Logic  has  her  idols  — figures  of  speech, 
formulas  of  belief — for  which  people  have 
burned  and  tortured  their  fellows,  dooming 
them  not  on  1 sr  to  the  stake  in  this  world, 
but  the  unquenchable  fires  of  hell.  Our 
Puritan  fathers  themselves  brought  no 
small  stock  of  these  from  the  old  world. 
Such  were  the  stern  and  narrow  Calvinistic 
precepts,  outside  of  which,  for  them,  was 
no  salvation.  In  the  name  of  these  meta- 
physical idols  they  hanged  the  Quakers 
and  drove  the  Baptists  bej-ond  their  bor- 
ders. Well,  but  we  have  gone  beyond  the 
Puritans.  Channing  leapt  out  of  their 
bonds  in  the  angelic  might  of  his  youth. 
Parker  smote  at  them  with  a zeal  which 
knew  no  intermission.  They  are  down 
now ; they  are  nowhere.  But,  strange  to 
sa}-,  the  iconoclast’s  tool  in  its  turn  be- 
comes our  idol.  I have  seen  obeisance 
made  to  Theodore  Parker’s  hammer.  When 
it  had  done  its  work  it  was  set  up  and  wor- 
shipped as  a symbol  of  destruction. 


Here  I must  consider  the  illusion  of  the 
iconoclast.  He  strikes  at  the  form  before 
him,  thinking  that  he  is  able  to  destroy  it, 
thinking,  later,  that  he  has  destroyed  it. 
But  has  he  done  so?  Has  not  the  most 
faulty  of  human  creations  some  deep  under- 
lying reason,  which,  having  its  foundation 
in  human  nature  itself,  cannot  be  destroyed 
Ivy  any  effort,  however  resolute  and  vehe- 
ment? 

The  idols  of  theology,  aj-e,  of  critical 
Protestant  theology,  have  been  man}T.  I 
have  lately  read  with  care  Schelling’s 
“ History  of  Revelation,”  and  have  in  mind 
at  this  moment  particularly  what  a Ger- 
man would  term  his  Christ-ology.  When 
I find  the  author  of  the  world-soul  divining 
things  which  God  could  do,  and  others 
which  he  could  not,  deriving  the  Christ 
himself  from  a portion  of  the  original  abso- 
lute Godhead  thrown  into  opposition  with 
itself,  and  so  maintained  throughout  count- 
less ages  in  order  that  this  very  Godhead 
absolute  might  be,  in  the  end,  compelled  to 
restore  to  man  his  pristine  dignity  and  nat- 
ural nearness  to  the  divine,  when  I follow 
this  fine-spun  demonstration  through  two 
weary  volumes,  I say  : This  was  a very  iu- 
genious  idol,  but  is  now  an  utterly  useless 
one.  It  stands  in  our  hall  of  faith  no 
longer.  God  is  what  he  is,  one  and  infi- 
nite. In  Him  is  no  division,  is  nothing 
subject  to  compulsion.  AFe  seek  to  relate 
ourselves  to  Him  by  love  aud  reverence, 
and  b}’  giving  heed  to  our  own  deepest  con- 
science, wdiose  rewards  and  punishments 
show  us  His  awful  power.  But  for  the 
conditions  in  which  our  metaphysical  world 
entangle  and  imprison  the  Divine,  away 
with  them  ! Their  time  is  past.  Our  rev- 
erence does  not  heed  them  now.  It  con- 
fesses that  the  Eternal  and  Infinite  is  also 
inscrutable.  We  may  be  taught  how  to 
help  and  save  our  fellow-men,  how  to  for- 
ward and  hold  fast  the  weal  of  society,  how 
to  attain  our  owrn  best  service,  our  full 
mental  stature  ; but  how  to  define  or  limit 
God  no  wisdom  can  teach  us,  wisdom  best 
showing  that  the  thing  is  impossible. 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts. 


49 


Yet  I have  thought  it  worth  while  to  fol- 
low, as  well  as  I could,  the  difficult  proc- 
esses by  which  this  eminent  philosopher 
sets  up  his  image  of  the  divine  human  for 
us  to  worship.  Why  have  I done  this? 
What  table  do  I find  in  reasoning  to  whose 
conclusions  I cannot  assent?  The  value  of 
recognizing  that  our  thoughts  have  a sacred 
right  to  occupy  themselves  with  subjects 
which  necessarily  transcend  our  compre- 
hension. The  world  in  which  we  live 
would  have  an  entirely  different  aspect 
for  us  if  the  most  profane  and  careless 
of  us  did  not  regard  it  as  pervaded  by 
the  presence  of  an  infinitely  good  and 
perfect  Being.  Empty  as  a man’s  life  is 
when  he  has  lost  faith  in  himself,  so  empty 
would  be  the  world,  if  we  could  lose  faith 
in  God.  But  we  cannot.  lie  is  present 
to  the  blasphemer,  as  well  as  to  the  wor- 
shipper. 

The  idol  has  its  moment  of  representa- 
tive truth  and  fitness,  but  because  it  repre- 
sents as  fixed  and  immovable  that  which  is 
always  iu  action,  it  becomes  a fiction  ; nay, 
a falsity'. 

I appear  today,  however,  as  much  the 
apologist  of  the  idol  as  of  the  iconoclast. 
For  I recognize  the  fact  that  representative 
thought  cannot  do  its  work  without  liberty 
secured  to  the  creative  play  of  the  imagina- 
tion. We  seek  truth,  and  we  represent  it 
through  a vision  or  symbol  which  is  not 
seeu  nor  heard  in  the  world  of  fact,  but 
without  which  our  mind  cannot  attain  its 
true  scope  of  action.  The  liberty  to  sym- 
bolize our  perceptions  is  the  first  condition 
of  progress  alike  in  art  and  in  religion. 
The  greatest  masters  encourage  us,  not  to 
slavish  imitation  of  their  style,  or  repeti- 
tion of  their  works,  but  to  seek  to  obtain 
the  baptism  of  the  free  spirit  through  which 
alone  they  were  able  to  accomplish  their 
marvels. 

Is  not  our  selfhood  an  idol  ? What  illu- 
sion exceeds  that  of  this  little  brief  per- 
sonality accorded  to  us  for,  possibly,  four- 
score years,  and  destined  thereafter  to  pass 


away  irrevocably,  our  remembrance  crumb- 
ling like  our  ashes,  the  utmost  persever- 
ance accorded  us  that  of  a monumental 
volume  and  uncertain  tradition?  This  is 
the  idol  of  idols.  And  yet  this  idol  repre- 
sents something  which  is  not  an  illusion. 
The  sense  of  one’s  own  personality,  of 
what  is  worthy  or  unworthy  of  it,  is  as  im- 
portant an  agent  in  morals  as  are  the  im- 
perious demands  of  man’s  physical  nature 
in  the  preservation  of  life.  ISTo  flatterer 
exaggerates,  or,  indeed,  fully  expresses 
the  value  and  dignity  of  a mere  average 
common  individual.  Yet  here  the  office  of 
the  iconoclast  is  obvious.  Youth  must  be 
delivered  from  fancied  knowledge  before 
anything  can  realty  be  learned.  A certain 
silty  conceit  and  exaggeration  of  one’s  im- 
portance to  the  universe  is  common  at  the 
start,  and  must  be  corrected.  This  should 
not  be  done  rudely,  but  your  child  or  your 
pupil  will,  in  after  life,  reproach  you  much 
less  for  having  performed  the  office  rudely 
than  for  not  having  performed  it  at  all. 

There  is  idolatry  not  only  in  our  self- 
worship, but  also  in  the  models  after  which 
some  of  us  train  ourselves  witli  industrious 
ambition,  not  perfecting  nature,  as  culture 
is  bound  to  do,  but  exaggerating  and  de- 
forming her.  People  who  set  up  for  being 
something,  whether  that  something  be  good 
or  bad,  are  usually  guilty  of  caricaturing 
themselves.  Whether  they  choose  to  be 
known  as  “death  on  common  sense”  or 
on  uncommon  sentiment,  as  confiding  or 
as  cynical,  as  exponents  of  extreme  criti- 
cism or  of  the  extreme  of  its  absence,  these 
people  are  worse  than  they  might  be. 
Fortunately,  for  some  of  them  the  Lord 
sends  a down-setting  which  in  some  degree 
corrects  their  uprising.  The  pity  is  that 
the}"  should  not  know  the  value  of  simple, 
genuine  character.  It  is  happy  for  them 
when  some  wise  friend  can  show  them 
■what  they  may  add  to  their  natural  endow- 
ments and  what  they  must  leave  to  others. 

One  thing  each  one  of  us  should  be,  and 
that  is,  an  individual.  And  yet  I have 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts. 


5° 

named  this  word  with  fear  and  trembling, 
for  there  is  no  monster  like  an  exaggerated 
individual.  I have  seen  people  who  set  up 
to  be  individuals  par  excellence.  These 
persons  sometimes  take  their  stand  upon  a 
sullen  impiety  of  disposition  which  neither 
takes  nor  gives  anything  that  leads  on  to 
human  intercourse.  In  other  cases  they 
devote  themselves  to  a certain  scheme  of 
self-culture,  but  really  seem  to  succeed 
only  in  cultivating  their  own  vanity.  While 
these  persons  are  anxious  to  display  what 
they  suppose  to  be  their  talents,  they  do 
display  a grotesque  incapacity  for  doing 
anything  that  needs  to  be  done.  They 
always  cap  the  climax  the  wrong  way. 
Instead  of  fitting  the  keystone  to  the  arch 
of  the  occasion,  their  intervention  causes 
both  sides  to  tumble  down.  It  might  be 
profane  to  call  these  the  “ I aim’s”  of  so- 
ciety, but  if  we  may,  it  will  only  show  ns 
that  the  perfect  Divine  alone  can  say,  “ I 
am  that  I am  ; ” while  for  these  friends  the 
better  formula  would  be,  “ I think  I am 
what  I am  not,  and  I am  nothing  less  than 
that  which  I assume  to  be.” 

Types  of  character  become  idols  when 
new  influences  have  carried  the  race  to 
new  developments.  The  ideals  of  man- 
hood and  of  womanhood  are  not  today 
such  as  they  were  even  fifty  years  ago. 
Even  the  affectations  of  society  are  indi- 
cations of  its  tendencies.  Historical  idols 
have  their  day,  but  are  set  aside  when  the 
popular  affection  forsakes  them.  The  rec- 
ords of  literature  show  us  many  of  these 
forms  which,  once  entertained  with  en- 
thusiasm, are  in  time  dismissed  and  for- 
gotten,— the  Stuart  kings  and  their  fol- 
lowers, the  jolly  Cavalier  and  astute 
Jacobite,  the  fine  lady  of  Queen  Anne’s 
time,  the  literary  toady  of  Dr.  Johnson’s 
admiring  circle.  Characters,  too,  in  mod- 
ern fiction  quickly  become  obsolete.  Pel- 
ham, Vivian  Grey,  even  Becky  Sharp,  give 
place  to  a host  of  new  favorites,  more 
ephemeral  even  than  they.  I myself  have 
witnessed  the  dying  out  of  more  than  one 


of  these  types.  The  saint  of  mv  j'outh  had 
an  embalmed  atmosphere  which  seemed 
deleterious  to  life.  He  or  she  went  to  no 
ball,  nor  theatre,  plajmd  no  harmless  game 
of  cards,  followed  no  idealistic  lead  in  dress 
or  furniture.  Such  persons,  termed  evan- 
gelical, would  speak  of  the  most  harmless 
of  pleasures  as  sure  to  entail  an  eternity 
of  suffering,  which  they  contemplated  as 
if  it  did  them  good  to  think  about  it.  The 
Blue-stocking  of  my  youth,  difficult  then, 
is  impossible  now.  Folly  itself  has  not 
the  impertinence  to  sniff  at  a woman  who 
is  studious  and  thoughtful,  and  one  who  is 
not  does  not  now  affect  the  culture  which 
she  knows  herself  not  to  possess. 

Fashion  is  a word  which  includes  our 
two  aspects  of  human  affection.  In  its 
guidance  most  of  us  become  by  turns 
idolators  and  iconoclasts.  What  can  pos- 
sibly commend  an  ugly,  inconvenient,  un- 
becoming dress  to  those  who  really  desire 
to  be  clothed  with  comeliness  and  adapta- 
tion? Fashion.  What  strange  reversion 
of  feeling,  on  the  other  hand,  leads  us  so 
savagety  to  avenge  the  brief  worship  ac- 
corded to  these  idols?  Adored  one  day, 
they  are  detested  on  the  next.  But  Fashion 
has  her  grim  resurrections.  Her  will  is  so 
absolute  that  she  must  needs  lead  us  back 
to  the  old  forms  which  we  have  derided, 
and  show  that  when  she  pleases  she  can 
bring  our  minds  down  to  the  hoop-skirts, 
compressed  waists  and  high  heels  which 
common  sense  and  good  taste  alike  con- 
demn. We  have  had  convulsions  of  laugh- 
ter over  our  grandmothers’  poke  bonnets, 
but  Fashion  knows  that,  at  her  bidding, 
we  shall  presently  put  them  on  again  with 
great  meekness.  Fashion  in  dress  is  here 
immediately  recognized  and  imitated.  You 
may  go  westward  by  the  lightning  train, 
and  find  the  last  deformity  from  Paris 
already  arrived  before  you.  Equally  does 
it  go  through  all  classes  of  society.  The 
maid  will  not  be  behind  her  mistress  in  the 
date  of  her  toilet.  For  all  good  fashions 
this  secures  a swiftness  of  circulation  which 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts. 


51 


is  valuable.  For  bad  fashions,  it  is  equally 
available. 

Idols  of  affection,  — is  not  our  family 
life  full  of  them?  I cannot,  do  what  I 
will,  hold  my  grown  children  in  the  agony 
of  affection  which  chained  me  to  them  in 
the  first  days  and  years  of  their  life.  It 
was  then  one  life  between  us.  Nothing 
can  take  the  place  of  what  then  was.  But 
it  can  be  no  longer.  They  are  now  sweet 
stars,  sending  me  an  individual  light. 
But  they  were  then  the  sun,  and  I was 
in  it. 

Falling  in  love  is  a thing  which  has  gone 
so  entirely  out  of  fashion  that  a woman  of 
my  age  may  be  excused  for  asking  whether 
any  one  of  those  present  has  even  a dim 
idea  of  what  such  an  experience  might  be? 
I only  mention  the  obsolete  deity  because 
in  his  creed  we  attain  the  widest  opposi- 
tion between  the  idol  and  its  overthrow. 
Love  is  cruel.  He  should  be  eternal.  He 
tells  us  that  he  is  so,  and  presently  he  dies 
the  stoniest  death,  and  never  revives  in 
the  same  form.  Mrs.  Browming,  review- 
ing the  past,  but  not  in  this  sense,  says : 

“ My  letters,  all  dead  paper,  mute  and  white.” 

This  phrase  of  Mrs.  Browning’s  makes 
me  think  of  the  dead  letters  of  our  friend- 
ships and  affections.  I fear  that  the  full- 
est experiences  of  this  kind  have  in  them 
something  that  dies.  No  one  has  always 
the  same  delight  in  the  same  friend.  I 
am  today  a closed  book  to  some  wrbo  used 
to  think  the  pages  of  myT  soul  a needful 
matter  of  perusal  to  them.  The  library  of 
my  own  heart  is  not  without  its  sealed  vol- 
umes. Some  of  them  are  sacred  still, 
though  rarely  read  in.  But  some  are  dead 
and  empty,  as  dusty  within  as  without. 
This  chapter  of  the  heart’s  idolatry  I must 
leave  unwritten.  [Mrs.  Howe  then  read 
the  following  stanzas  of  her  own  :] 

Love,  farewell!  thou  dream  of  ages, 
Thou  mock-priest,  thou  idol  hoar ! 

Saints  may  ’scape  thy  rule,  but  sages 
Buy  thy  follies  with  their  lore. 


Every  bitter  thou  hast  brought  me 
In  a honeyed  svveet  began  ; 

And  the  halting  lesson  taught  me 
Erst  in  golden  numbers  ran. 

But  a misty  comfort’s  risen 
Erom  the  loneliness  I curse ; 

In  my  heart  I built  thy  prison, 

Thou  enfold’st  the  universe. 

The  progress  of  life,  if  we  are  once  set 
in  a true  relation  to  it,  much  assists  in 
instructive  correction.  Wise  as  our  teach- 
ers may  have  been,  the  years  will  teach  us 
what  the  times,  the  men  could  not.  Once, 
we  honestly  thought  that  the  world  was 
waiting  to  know  w?hat  we  would  do,  what 
we  would  saj-.  Things  undertaken  with- 
out us  almost  caused  us  surprise.  And 
more  and  more  we  find  that  the  world  goes 
on  its  way,  no  matter  who  withdraws  him- 
self, no  matter  who  dies.  We  see  the 
greatest  pass  from  earth,  business  being 
suspended  just  long  enough  to  bury  and 
to  praise  them.  Mourning  is  left  to 
women  as  a profession,  through  the  now 
obsolete  idea  that  they  have  nothing  to 
do.  Most  of  us  who  live  even  to  three- 
score years  live  to  be  ourselves  forgotten 
in  the  scenes  and  places  with  which  our 
youth  was  identified.  What  becomes  of 
this  grandiose  gallery  which  was  so  filled 
with  the  various  heroic  aspects  of  our  own 
life?  It  is  vacant  now.  The  great  icon- 
oclast, Experience,  has  brought  matters  to 
this  bareness,  the  severe  aspect  of  things 
as  they  are. 

Yet  here  we  may  also  ask,  what  has 
been  destroyed?  what  remains?  Do  we 
find,  in  later  years,  that  our  youthful  fancy 
exaggerated  in  airy  sense  the  dignity  of  a 
human  life,  the  importance  of  its  true 
direction,  the  value  of  its  full  work?  By 
no  means.  All  these,  on  the  contraiy, 
become  more  real  to  us  as  we  go  on.  The 
old  man  knows  how  momentous  are  the 
issues  of  life,  and  so  exhorts  the  young 
man  to  keep  his  heart,  out  of  which  they 
spring.  In  view  of  these  devastations, 
which  destixy  nothing  of  the  substance  of 


Idols  and  Iconoclasts. 


things,  I must  help  myself  with  a verse 
of  Mr.  Emerson’s  : 

If  the  red  slayer  think  he  slays, 

Or  if  the  slain  think  he  is  slain , 

They  know  not  well  the  subtle  ways 
I keep,  and  pass,  and  turn  again. 

Music  — wliat  shall  we  say  of  its  dis- 
solving scries?  How  may  we  describe  the 
heroic  moods  into  which  it  leads  the  least 
heroic  of  us?  It  lends  us  a nobleness  of 
soul  which  we  hardly  conceive  ourselves 
capable  of  possessing.  Think  of  soldiers 
struggling  against  deadly  odds,  broken  in 
hope  and  in  courage,  but  suddenly  led  for- 
ward to  victory  by  the  blast  of  a trumpet, 
or  the  hum  of  a bagpipe.  The  French 
Marseillaise  has  turned  the  fortune  of  more 
than  one  battle.  In  our  own  civil  war  a 
favorite  song  once  nerved  a forlorn  hope 
to  carry  its  point  successfully.  Yet,  is 
there  any  process  more  passive,  less  akin 
to  action  than  that  of  listening?  And 
when  the  listening  is  ended,  what  remains? 
Absolutely  nothing.  And  this  nothing 
may  have  changed  our  whole  relation  to 
life.  It  may  have  reached  depths  of  our 
nature  hitherto  unknown  to  ourselves. 
From  cowardly,  it  has  made  us  brave. 
From  meanness,  it  has  brought  generosity. 
In  dull  materialism,  it  has  roused  the  most 
vivid  flame  of  belief. 

After  the  contrast  of  thesis  with  antith- 
esis, we  always  desire  reconciliation.  In 
considering,  as  imperfectly  as  I have,  the 
opposition  of  idol  and  iconoclast,  I have 
come  upon  the  word  ideal,  which  will  be 


for  me  the  point  of  rest  and  reconciliation. 
In  the  history  and  the  life  of  thought,  our 
constructive  imagination  creates  the  idol, 
and  our  corrective  judgment  destroys  it. 
Byr  the  two  processes,  we  attain  to  a third 
conception,  that  of  the  supreme  and  un- 
ending good,  which,  partially  revealed  to 
our  imagination  and  to  our  judgment,  is 
worshipped  by  both  as  our  eternal  and 
inalienable  possession. 

Death  is,  indeed,  the  great  iconoclast. 
Ho  dissolves  form  and  frees  the  spirit. 
But  his  is  never  the  last  word.  Life  is 
spirit,  but  life  is  form,  too.  The  letter 
expresses,  preserves,  records.  How  pre- 
cious are  these,  its  offices ! But  tell  us, 
when  and  how  does  the  letter  begin  to  kill, 
in  contradistinction  to  the  spirit,  which 
gives  life?  I see  the  mighty  efforts  of 
human  art  and  human  criticism.  I see 
the  labor  of  those  who  build,  and  of  those 
who  destroy'.  I see  that  neither  our  mind 
nor  our  affection  can  work  in  the  void  in 
which,  as  has  been  said,  for  countless 
ages,  nothing  can  come  of  nothing.  We 
must  make  to  ourselves  images,  though 
the  Decalogue  forbids  it.  We  must  also 
be  admonished,  when  the  prophet,  with 
the  higher  law  in  his  heart,  breaks  them  in 
pieces  before  us.  Between  the  two  illu- 
sions, between  what  seems  to  be  estab- 
lished and  what  seems  to  be  destroyed, 
my'  heart  retains  its  steadfast  hope,  and  I 
say  with  the  Hebrew  prophet : “ The  grass 
withereth,  the  flower  fadeth,  but  the  word 
of  our  God  shall  stand  forever.” 


The  Emerson  Commemoration. 


53 


Sixth  Day,  — July  22. 


THE  EMERSON  COMMEMORATION. 


THOR  the  special  exercises  of  the  school 
in  commemoration  of  Ralph  Waldo 
Emerson,  the  town  hall  of  Concord  -was 
opened.  Forenoon  and  afternoon  sessions 
were  held,  and  a large  audience  was  pres- 
ent at  each,  including  many  of  Emerson’s 
townsmen  and  many  persons  from  abroad. 
Evergreen  decorations  upon  the  walls  and 
platform,  the  national  colors  behind  the 
desk,  and  constant  reminders  of  Emerson, 


made  the  outward  appearance  symbolize 
the  inner  feeling  toward  the  departed.  A 
portrait  of  Emerson  as  an  old  man  hung  in 
front  of  the  desk.  One  representing  him 
in  middle  life  was  on  the  wall  behind  the 
speakers,  and  upon  an  evergreen-covered 
table  was  French’s  bust  representing  him 
in  advanced  years.  In  the  forenoon,  after 
prayer  by  the  Rev.  R.  A.  Holland,  Mr. 
Sanborn  read  the  opening  address. 


INTRODUCTORY  ADDRESS. 

BY  MR.  SANBORN. 


Friends  and  Neighbors  : — 

TT  is  three  months  today  since  we  began 
to  dwell  with  earnest  fear  on  the 
thought  that  our  Concord  poet  and  philos- 
opher, whose  name  and  fame  had  become, 
as  it  were,  a part  of  our  own,  and  far  the 
greater  part,  was  passing  from  this  haunt  of 
life  to  another.  Even  then  we  imagined, 
contrary  to  what  we  had  known  of  the  high 
singularity  of  his  career  among  us,  that  his 
departure  would  be  like  that  of  other  men, 
— a period  of  illness  more  or  less  extended, 
in  which  we  might  become  familiar  with 
the  thought  of  death,  and  habituate  our- 
selves to  what  this  town  and  this  nation 
must  be  without  his  gracious  presence. 
But  he,  with  the  speed  of  genius,  made 
haste  to  be  gone  ; and,  when  the  moment 
came,  we  felt  in  his  death  that  surprise 
wrhich  the  achievements  of  his  life  had  so 
often  given  us.  Emerson  existed,  indeed, 
to  surprise,  as  the  poet  does,  and  to  con- 
sole and  strengthen,  as  does  the  philoso- 


pher. He  was  poet  and  philosopher  in 
one,  and  as  such  we  wish  to  celebrate  his 
memory  today.  It  is  peculiarly  fitting 
that  the  School  of  Philosophy  should  thus 
commemorate  him  who  was  and  must 
always  remain  its  most  illustrious  teacher. 
He  did  not  hold,  or  else,  holding,  he  did 
not  value  greatly,  some  of  the  opinions 
announced  in  our  yearly  conferences  ; his 
method  was  his  own,  and  we  shall  hear  it 
so  well  described  this  morning  by  Dr. 
Bartol,  and  this  afternoon  by  Dr.  Harris, 
that  I need  not  delay  you  even  to  hint 
what  that  method  was.  But,  in  the  chief 
purpose  of  our  School,  — to  cultivate  in  the 
men  and  women  of  our  time  a serious  con- 
templation of  the  most  serious  and  lofty 
questions  which  confront  us  in  the  morning 
or  the  evening  of  our  clays,  — and  to  ap- 
proach these  problems,  not  doubtfully  and 
with  timid  or  malevolent  apprehension, 
but  wdth  a loving  and  brave  confidence — in 
this  purpose  he  w-as  not  only  united  with 


54 


Introductory  Address. 


us,  1 >ut  he  had  beeu  for  half  a century  our 
leader. 

In  vain  for  us  to  say  what  thou  hast  been 
To  our  occasion — 

This  flickering  nation, 

This  stock  of  people  from  an  English  kin,— 
Ami  he  who  led  the  van, 

The  frozen  Puritan, 

We  thank  thee  for  thy  patience  with  his  faith, 
When  thou  must  teach  him  what  God’s  spirit 
saith. 

So  moderate  in  thy  lessons,  and  so  wise, 

To  foes  so  courteous, 

To  friends  so  duteous, 

And  hospitable  to  the  neighbors’  eyes ; 

Thy  course  was  better  kept, 

Than  where  the  dreamers  slept; 

Thy  sure  meridian  taken  by  the  sun, 

Thy  compass  pointing  true  as  waters  run. 

The  smart  and  pathos  of  our  suffering  race 
Bore  thee  no  harm ; 

Thy  muscular  arm 
The  daily  ills  of  living  did  efface ; 

The  sources  of  the  spring 
Prom  whence  thy  thought  took  wing, 
Unsounded  were  by  lines  of  sordid  day-; 
Enclosed  with  inlaid  walls  thy  virtue’s  way. 

The  circles  of  thy  thought  shone  vast  as  stars  ; 
No  glass  shall  round  them, 

No  plummet  sound  them, 

They  hem  the  observer  like  bright  steel-wrought 
bars ; 

Yet  limpid  as  the  sun, 

Or  as  bright  waters  run 
From  the  cold  fountain  of  an  Alpine  spring, 

Or  diamonds  richly  set  in  the  King’s  ring. 

Out  of  deep  mysteries  thy  goblet  fills; 

The  wines  do  murmur 
That  nature  warmed  her, 

When  she  was  pressing  out  from  must  the  hills, 


The  plains  that  near  us  lie, 

The  foldings  of  the  sky  ; 

Wliate’er  within  the  horizon’s  bound  there  is, 
From  Hades’  caldron  to  the  blue  God’s  bliss. 

It  is  not  given  to  us,  and  to  few  men 
can  it  be  given,  to  measure  the  height 
and  depth  of  Emerson’s  genius,  either  as 
poet  or  as  philosopher.  But  there  is  an 
aspect  of  his  philosophical  character  which 
we  cannot  too  often  dwell  upon  — his 
flowing,  unfailing  courtesy  to  all  men,  his 
hospitality  to  everything  that  bore  the 
upright  face  of  thought,  his  deep  sympathy 
and  fellowship,  beneath  an  exterior  some- 
times cold,  with  all  that  was  human  and 
aspiring.  His  friend  Jones  Very  once 
said,  in  an  essay  on  poetrj'  too  early  for- 
gotten : “ The  fact  is,  our  manners,  or  the 
manners  and  actions  of  any  intellectual 
nation,  can  never  become  the  representa- 
tives of  greatness.  The}'  have  fallen  from 
the  high  sphere  which  they  occupied  in  a 
less  advanced  stage  of  the  human  mind, 
never  to  regain  it.”  But  this  remark,  like 
almost  everything  in  daily  American  ex- 
perience, found  its  constant  contradiction 
in  Emerson  ; whose  manners  represented 
nothing  else  than  greatness,  and  that  not 
in  a dazzling,  overpowering  way,  but  with 
the  sweetness  of  sunlight.  Let  me  not 
detain  you  longer  with  these  words  of 
mine,  but  present  to  you  those  who  will 
carry  forward  your  thoughts  toward  the 
poetry  and  the  philosophy  of  our  towns- 
man. 

1 From  William  Ellery  Channing’s  “Ode,”  written 
about  1817. 


The  Nature  of  Knowledge. 


55 


THE  NATURE  OF  KNOWLEDGE — EMERSON’S  WAY. 

BY  THE  REV.  CYRUS  AUGUSTUS  BARTOL,  D.  D.1 


T FEEL  the  magnetism  from  the  name  of 
one  never  accounted  unbelieving  save 
hv  such  as  he  had  soared  out  of  sight  of,  into 
the  heaven  of  faith.  If  I can  bring  back 
for  a moment  that  light  of  our  day  which 
Emerson  was,  it  will  be  a sober  joy  ; for 
to  have  lived  in  the  same  time  with  him,  to 
have  been  his  friend  and  shared  his  love, 
not  demonstrative  because  loath  to  ask  any 
return,  is  a memorable  privilege.  He  is 
not  dead  nor  in  the  past  tense.  Is  it  for 
being  old  and  forgetful  that  we  sometimes 
ask  after  the  health  of  those  w'ho,  we  know, 
are  gone  ? No  particular  favor  from  an  ac- 
quaintance with”  Emerson  would  it  become 
any  of  us  to  dwell  on.  The  fire  of  Emer- 
son’s genius  was  love  for  all. 

But  we  are  not  over  his  coffin.  I think 
the  genius  of  Emerson,  the  fresh  mint  of 
his  imagery  as  of  gold,  the  power  that 
made  his  words  like  coins  used  for  the  first 
time,  eveiy  syllable’s  edge  bright  and  un- 
worn, was  an  offspring  of  the  wedding  of 
matter  and  mind.  He  had  a foregleam  of 
the  unity  of  these  two  in  all  organized 
things.  But  he  did  not  find  the  secret  in 
the  shape,  nor  were  the  outward  and  in- 
ward to  him  of  equal  worth  ; the  unappar- 
ent,  invisible,  eternal  power  and  Godhead 
were  prior  in  his  view  as  much  as  in  the 
Apostle  Paul’s,  and  as  though  he  were 
writing  the  Epistle  to  the  Romans.  He 
was  inspired,  influenced,  sent.  In  the  exe- 
cution of  his  orders  he  wras  not  an  artisan, 
but  an  artist,  always  seeing  the  One  who 
makes  the  unity  and  the  universe. 

1 Cyrus  Augustus  Bartol,  D.D.,  was  horn  in  Freeport, 
Me.,  April  30,  1S13.  In  1832  he  graduated  from  Bowdoin 
College,  and  in  1835  from  the  Harvard  divinity  school  at 
Cambridge.  In  1837  he  was  settled  as  colleague  of  the 
pastor  of  the  West  Church,  on  Cambridge  Street,  in  Boston, 
and  has  had  no  other  settlement.  He  still  continues  to 


He  was  offended  at  the  hint  that  spirit 
might  be  the  result  of  matter  made  very 
“ thin.”  He  gazed  at  or  after  the  unap- 
parent,  as  a sailor  or  fugitive  slave  for  the 
North  Star.  He  liked  Bonaparte’s  wrord, 
“ History  is  a fable  agreed  upon,”  and 
wrote  : “ Time  dissipates  into  shining 
ether  the  solid  angularity  of  facts.”  He 
saw,  like  a spiritual  homoeopath,  the  highest 
potency  in  the  largest  dilution,  and  tre- 
mendous forces  in  the  least  space.  This 
is  nature’s  law  ; the  large  is  made  of  the 
little.  It  is  not  the  quantity,  but  what  we 
get  under  the  skin  that  affects  us. 

The  agnostic,  that  most  refined  speci- 
men materialism  gives  birth  to,  — the 
“ know-nothing  ” in  the  intellectual  world, 
— considers  impertinent  all  curiosity  beyond 
phenomena  and  their  laws.  But  suppose 
the  circle  of  appearances  and  reconciliation 
complete.  Yet  every  important  question 
still  remains.  Whence,  how,  what,  where- 
fore, whither  ? Is  igneous  vapor  the 
source?  Tell  me  the  source  of  that.  Are 
we  blown  from  the  nebulae?  Who  blew 
that  huge  bubble,  and  how  did  you  step 
from  or  to  it?  It  is  wicked  to  brand  as 
useless  a curiosity  of  which  nature  in  and 
out  of  us  is  the  prompter.  On  this  ever- 
lasting ground  rest  philosophy  and  relig- 
ion, which  are  more  than  science,— on  this 
supersensible,  supersolar,  supernatural,  not 
in  the  sense  of  miracle  or  violated  laws. 

How  steadily  by  Emerson  it  was  taught ! 
“ Let  who  will  wrangle,  I will  wonder.”  If 
this  is  to  be  an  idealist,  and  not  a material- 

discharge  all  the  duties  of  pastor,  and  is  one  of  the  best- 
known  of  Boston  preachers.  His  published  works  include 
“Discourses  on  the  Christian  Spirit  and  Life”  (185o), 
“Discourses  on  the  Christian  Body  and  Form”  (1854), 
“Pictures  of  Europe”  (1855),  “Radical  Problems”  (1872), 
and  “The  Rising  Faith”  (1873). 


5 6 


The  Nature  of  Knowledge. 


ist,  such  he  was.  He  may  have  made  strong 
statements  which,  unqualified,  look  the 
other  way,  as  when  he  says,  “A  man  is 
part  of  the  landscape.”.  But  he  modifies 
his  own  extravagance.  Our  objections  to 
him  are  mostly  answered  on  his  own  pages  ; 
his  critics  arc  like  dogs  that  bark  at  a man 
on  his  own  premises.  Formed  for  the  ad- 
miring of  beauty  in  nature,  he  yet  per- 
ceives the  peril  that  nature  herself  with 
her  ideas  and  forms  may  seduce.  She  is  a 
sorceress  with  whom  the  soul  commits 
adultery  if  she  withdraw  its  worship  from 
God.  Emerson  beheld  both  sides,  and  from 
the  heart  of  God  he  derived  the , sacred 
drops  of  life. 

Emerson  had  no  code  or  system  or 
creed  ; no  comprehensive,  practical  view  of 
principles,  but  only  keen,  single  percep- 
tions, fatally  certain  within  whatever  field 
he  surveyed  and  brought  his  perfect  in- 
strument or  brain-theodolite  to  bear  upon. 
He  was  an  insulated  soul,  as  were  Milton, 
Dante,  Wordsworth  ; an  island  rather  than 
a star ; and  as  Homer,  Shakespeare,  and 
Goethe  were  not,  and  the  mighty  Brown- 
ing is  not.  His  style  is  crisp  and  insular  ; 
he  himself  is  a robe  without  seam,  all  of 
one  piece ; his  leaf  is  a carcanet.  His 
thoughts  are  a selection  of  beads  to  be 
strung,  all  belonging  together,  by  their 
perfect  shape  and  hue.  But  the  best  lines 
are  like  a succession  of  rockets,  with  their 
fierce  sallies,  shining  trains  and  handsome 
curves,  opening  wide  glimpses  of  the  sky. 
His  poems  and  essays  are  songs,  not  sym- 
phonies, odes,  not  dramas. 

But  there  was  a tune  in  his  mind  so  con- 
stant and  sweet  that  he  cared  not  for 
chords  and  pipes.  Emerson  delighted  in  a 
good  voice,  and  no  man  had  a better ; this 
sage  was  a bard,  too,  supreme  on  this  side 
the  sea,  and  destined  to  survive  all  the 
rest.  His  strains  are  gifts,  chimings  of 
nature,  sounds  of  the  wind  “blowing 
where  it  listeth,”  tidings  from  some  far-off 
celestial  shore,  articulated  but  not  created 
with  any  cunning  ventriloquism.  He  rides 


and  converses  with  the  Lord  ; he  pitches 
his  key,  as  he  listens,  to  repeat  some  se- 
raphic strain  ; and  so  to  receive  and  com- 
municate is  the  highest  reach  of  the  human 
soul.  It  is  possible  that  the  scientific 
statements  of  our  time  will  pass  away  be- 
fore new  lights  or  be  made  trivial  by  a 
deeper  discernment ; but  so  long  as  our 
language  lasts,  those  real  entrances  of  God 
which  we  call  poetic  will  display  that 
“ house  of  many  mansions”  in  which  they 
are  practised  and  to  whose  spacious  felici- 
ties the}T  lead. 

There  is  but  one  edge  of  battle  in  mod- 
ern thought ; all  other  controversies  are 
trifles  to  this  — whether  we  come  of  the  un- 
conscious, unalive  and  unaware,  or  of  a Liv- 
ing One.  Is  self-made  substance  and  blind 
essence  all?  Is  what  we  call  soul  an  ex- 
pression, accident,  incident  only  of  that? 
I resent,  repudiate  the  conceit.  But  if  it 
be  so,  let  me  go  accidentally  as  I came,  I 
care  not  how  soon.  I am  not  grateful  that 
I exist,  and  there  is  no  blasphemy  in  so 
saying,  as,  by  supposition,  there  is  none 
for  me  to  blaspheme.  Nobody’s  feelings 
are  hurt : nobody  is  there  ! 

But  we  are  not  at  the  end.  In  a score 
of  years  the  whole  now  popular  form  of 
knowledge  may  change.  God  may  show  His 
face  again,  but  He  will  not  do  it  through  a 
development  theory.  My  friends,  He  has 
not  withdrawn  from  us  the  light  of  His 
countenance.  But  that  religion  may  be  a 
power,  there  must  be  some  common  con- 
fession or  church.  Emerson  feared  the  ex- 
cesses of  radicalism,  and  went  to  meeting 
regularly  in  his  last  days.  I count  it  a 
spiritual  ascent  in  him,  and  not  an  intel- 
lectual decline. 

To  Emerson’s  school  of  character  who 
would  not  belong ! Did  any  one  know 
him  and  not  take  a lesson  in  nobility? 
What  rebuke  did  envy  need  but  from  his 
look?  No  courtesy  to  others  but  he  owed 
to  himself!  Could  manners  finer  than  his 
bloom  on  the  genealogic  tree  of  earls  and 
kings?  His  tongue  tuned  every  other; 


Ion : A Monody, 


57 


his  presence  ranked  all  companies.  “Where 
Macdonald  sils  is  the  head  of  the  table.” 
It  was  not  to  boast,  but  to  bow.  Emerson 
was  one  of  those  with  the  power  of  draw- 
ing from  the  upper  atmosphere,  occupied 
by  the  Unseen  from  whom  such  as  he  are  but 


bjr  flesh  detained.  Only  this  fellowship, 
surmised,  hoped  for  and  enjoj'ed,  makes  it 
worth  while  to  exist  at  all.  “ If  there  be 
gods,  it  is  good  to  live  ; if  there  be  none, 
it  is  pleasant  to  die.” 


ION : A 

BY  MR. 


MONODY. 

ALCOTT. 


I. 

\7Hf,  oh,  ye  willows,  and  ye  pastures  bare, 

’ ’ Why  will  ye  thus  your  blooms  so  late  delay? 
Wrap  iu  chill  weeds  the  sere  and  sullen  day 
And  cheerless  greet  me  wandering  in  despair. 

Tell  me,  ah,  tell  me ! Ye  of  old  could  tell 
Whither  my  vanished  Ion  now  doth  fare  — 

Say,  have  ye  seen  him  lately  pass  this  way, 

Ye  who  his  wonted  haunts  did  know  full  well? 

Heard  ye  his  voice  forth  from  the  thicket  swell, 

Where  midst  the  drooping  ferns  he  loved  to  stray? 
Caught  ye  no  glimpses  of  my  truant  there? 

Tell  me,  oh,  tell  me,  whither  he  hath  flown  — 

Beloved  Ion  flown,  and  left  ye  sad  and  lone, 

Whilst  I through  wood  and  field  his  loss  bemoan. 

II. 

Early  through  field  and  wood  each  Spring  we  sped, 
Young  Ion  leading  o’er  the  reedy  pass; 

How  fleet  his  footsteps  and  how  sure  his  tread ! 

His  converse  deep  and  weighty ; — where,  alas  ! 

Like  force  of  thought  with  subtlest  beauty  wed  ! 

The  bee  and  bird  and  flower,  the  pile  of  grass, 

The  lore  of  stars,  the  azure  sky  o’erhead, 

The  eye’s  warm  glance,  the  Fates  of  love  and  dread,  — 
All  mirrored  were  in  his  prismatic  glass ; 

For  endless  Being’s  myriad-minded  race 
Had  in  his  thought  their  registry  and  place,  — 

Bright  with  intelligence,  or  drugged  with  sleep, 

Hid  in  dark  cave,  aloft  on  mountain  steep, 

In  seas  immersed,  ensouled  in  starry  keep. 

III. 

Now  echo  answers  lone  from  cliff  and  brake, 

Where  we  in  Springtime  sauntering  loved  to  go,  — 

Or  to  the  mossy  bank  beyond  the  lake, 

On  its  green  plushes  oft  ourselves  did  throw : 

There  from  the  sparkling  wave  our  thirst  to  slake, 
Dipped  in  the  spring  that  bubbled  up  below 


Ton : A.  Monody. 


Our  hands  for  cups,  and  did  with  glee  partake. 

Next  to  the  Hermit’s  cell  our  way  we  make 
Where  sprightly  talk  doth  hold  the  morning  late. 
Departed  now  : ah,  Ilylas,  too,  is  gone ! 

Hylas,  dear  Ion’s  friend  and  mine,  — I all  alone, 

Alone  am  left  by  unrelenting  fate, 

Vanished  my  loved  ones  all,  — the  good,  the  great. 
Why  am  I spared?  Why  left  disconsolate? 

IV. 

Slow  winds  our  Indian  stream  through  meadows  green, 
By  bending  willows,  tangled  fen  and  brake, 

Smooth  field  and  farmstead  doth  its  flow  forsake  : 

’Twas  in  far  woodpaths  Ion,  too,  was  seen, 

But  oftenest  found  at  Walden’s  emerald  lake, 

(The  murmuring  pines  inverted  in  its  sheen,) 

There  in  his  skiff  he  rippling  rhymes  did  make, 

Its  answering  shore  echoing  the  verse  between. 
Full-voiced  the  meaning  of  the  wizard  song, 

Far  wood  and  wave  and  shore  with  kindred  will, 
Strophe,  antistrophe,  in  turn  prolong:  — 

Now  wave  and  shore  and  wood  are  mute  and  still, 

Ion,  melodious  bard,  hath  dropt  his  quill, 

His  harp  is  silent  and  his  voice  is  still. 

V. 

Blameless  was  Ion,  beautiful  to  see, 

With  native  genius,  with  rich  gifts  endowed, 

He  might  of  his  descent  be  nobly  proud, 

Yet  meekly  tempered  was,  spake  modestly, 

Nor  sought  the  plaudits  of  the  noisy  crowd 
When  duty  called  him  in  the  thick  to  be. 

His  life  flowed  calmly  clear,  not  hoarse  nor  loud  ; 

He  wearied  not  of  immortality, 

Nor  like  Tithonus  begged  a time-spun  shroud, 

But  life-long  drank  at  fountains  of  pure  truth, 

The  seer  unsated  of  eternal  youth. 

’Tis  not  for  Ion’s  sake  these  tears  I shed. 

’Tis  for  the  Age  he  nursed,  his  genius  fed  — 

Ion  immortal  is ; he  is  not  dead. 

VI. 

Did  e’en  the  Ionian  bard,  Maonides, 

Blind  minstrel  wandering  out  of  Asia’s  night, 

The  Iliad  of  Troy’s  loves  and  rivalries, 

(In  strains  forever  tuneful  to  recite,) 

His  raptured  listeners  the  more  delight? 

Or  dropt  learned  Plato  ’neath  his  olive  trees, 

More  star-bright  wisdom  in  the  world’s  full  sight, 

Well  garnered  in  familiar  colloquies, 

Than  did  our  harvester  in  fields  of  light ; 

Nor  spoke  more  charmingly  young  Charmides, 

Than  our  glad  rhapsodist  in  his  far  flight 
Across  the  continents,  both  new  and  old ; 

His  tale  to  studious  thousands  thus  he  tokl 
In  summer’s  solstice  and  midwinter’s  cold. 


Ion:  A Monody. 


59 


VII. 

Shall  from  the  shades  another  Orpheus  rise 
Sweeping  with  venturous  hand  the  vocal  string? 
Kindle  glad  raptures,  visions  of  surprise, 

And  wake  to  ecstasy  each  slumberous  thing  ? 

Flash  life  and  thought  anew  in  wondering  eyes, 

As  when  our  seer  transcendent,  sweet,  and  wise, 
World-Wide  his  native  melodies  did  sing, 

Flushed  with  fair  hopes  and  ancient  memories? 

Ah,  no!  his  matchless  lyre  must  silent  lie. 

None  hath  the  vanished  minstrel’s  wondrous  skill 
To  touch  that  instrument  with  art  and  will. 

With  him  winged  Poesy  doth  droop  and  die, 

While  our  dull  age,  left  voiceless,  with  sad  eye 
Follows  his  flight  to  groves  of  song  on  High. 

VIII. 

Come,  then,  Mnemosyne,  and  on  me  wait 
As  if  for  Ion’s  harp  thou  gav’st  thine  own, 

Recall  the  memories  of  man’s  ancient  state, 

Ere  to  this  low  orb  had  his  form  dropt  down, 

Clothed  in  the  cerements  of  his  chosen  fate 
Oblivious  here  of  heavenly  glories  flown; 

Lapsed  from  the  high,  the  fair,  the  blest  of  late, 
Unknowing  these,  and  by  himself  unknown  : — 

Lo  ! Ion  unfallen  from  his  lordly  prime, 

Paused,  in  his  passing  flight,  and,  giving  ear 
To  heedless  sojourners  in  weary  time, 

Sang  his  full  song  of  hope  and  lofty  cheer, 

Aroused  them  from  dull  sleep,  from  grizly  fear, 

And  toward  the  stars  their  faces  did  uprear. 

IX. 

Why  didst  thou  haste  away,  ere  yet  the  green 
Enamelled  meadow,  the  sequestered  dell, 

The  blossoming  orchard,  leafy  grove  were  seen 
In  the  sweet  season  thou  liadst  sung  so  well? 

Why  cast  this  shadow  o’er  the  vernal  scene  ? 

No  more  its  rustic  charms  of  that  may  tell 
And  so  content  us  with  their  simple  mien  : — 

Was  it  that  memory’s  unrelinquished  spell 
(Ere  men  had  stumbled  here  amid  the  tombs,) 
Revived  for  thee  that  Spring’s  perennial  blooms, 
Those  cloud-capped  alcoves  where  we  once  did  dwell? 
Translated  wast  thou  in  some  rapturous  dream  ? 

Our  once  familiar  faces  strange  must  seem 
Whilst  from  thine  own  celestial  smiles  did  stream ! 


X. 

I tread  the  marble  leading  to  his  door, 
(Allowed  the  freedom  of  a chosen  friend,) 
He  greets  me  not  as  was  his  wont  before, 
The  Fates  within  frown  on  me  as  of  yore. 


Emerson  as  a Poet. 


60 


Could  ye  not  once  your  offices  suspend? 

Had  Atropos  her  severing  shears  forbore, 

Or  Clot  ho  stooped  the  sundered  thread  to  mend! 

Yet  why  dear  Ion’s  destiny  deplore? 

What  more  had  envious  time  himself  to  give? 

Ilis  fame  had  reached  the  ocean’s  farthest  shore. 

Why  prisoned  here  should  Ion  longer  live? 

The  questioning  Spliynx  declared  him  void  of  blame; 
For  wiser  answer  none  could  ever  frame; 

Beyond  all  time  survives  his  mighty  name. 


XI. 

Now  pillowed  near  loved  Ilylas’  lowly  bed, 
Beneath  our  aged  oaks  and  sighing  pines, 

Pale  Ion  rests  awhile  his  laurelled  head; 

(How  sweet  his  slumber  as  he  there  reclines!) 
Why  weep  for  Ion  here?  He  is  not  dead, 
Nought  of  him  Personal  that  mound  confines  ; 
The  hues  ethereal  of  the  morning  red 
This  clod  embraces  never,  nor  enshrines. 
Away  the  mourning  multitude  hath  sped, 

And  round  us  closes  fast  the  gathering  night. 
As  from  the  drowsy  dell  the  sun  declines, 

Ion  hath  vanished  from  our  clouded  sight. 

But  on  the  morrow,  with  the  budding  May, 
A-field  goes  Ion,  at  first  flush  of  day, 

Across  the  pastures  on  his  dewy  way. 


EMERSON  AS  A POET. 

BY  JOEL  BENTON.1 


A FTER  Mr.  Alcott  finished,  Mr.  San- 
born  introduced  the  Rev.  George  W. 
Cooke,  who  read  a paper  upon  “Emerson 
as  a Poet,”  written  by  Mr.  Joel. Benton  of 
Ameuia,  N.  Y.,  who  was  necessarily  ab- 
sent. Onl}'  a portion  of  the  essay  was 
read,  but  it  will  be  produced  entirely  in 

1 Joel  Benton  was  born  in  Amenia,  Dutchess  County, 
New  York,  where  he  now  lives.  He  fitted  for  college  at 
Amenia  Seminary,  but  ill  health  prevented  liis  taking  a 
college  course.  He  was  editor  of  the  Amenia  “Times” 
when  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  at  intervals  has  filled  that 
position  for  thirteen  years  in  all.  He  has  been  prominent 
in  politics,  and  was  a strong  supporter  of  Mr.  Greeley  in 
the  presidential  campaign  of  1872.  He  has  been  a constant 
contributor  to  periodicals,  and  the  “ Literary  World  ” says 
of  him:  “Among  our  minor  poets  he  occupies  an  en- 
viable place.  His  prose  contributions  to  the  magazines  and 
weekly  journals  have  been  welcomed  and  widely  read.  His 
poetical  tribute  to  Mercedes  which  appeared  in  the  ‘Inter- 
national Review  * elicited  an  autograph  letter  of  thanks  from 


book  form.  An  abstract  is  given  below. 
In  the  essay  the  author  assigns  Emerson  a 
very  high  rank,  not  only  among  the  poets 
of  his  own  time,  but  among  those  of  all 
time.  He  does  not  think  a poet  can  be 
perfectly  described  or  limited  by  his  adher- 
ence to  or  dissent  from  academical  rules. 

Alfonso.”  In  late  years  he  has  heen  a contributor  to  the 
“ Galaxy,”  the  “ Independent,”  the  “ Christian  Union,”  and 
“ Scribner’s  Magazine.”  The  article  above  quoted  also  says  : 
“ Mr.  Benton  belongs  to  the  Concord  school  of  writers, 
Emerson  being  a sort  of  immediate  poetical  ancestor,  while 
in  his  choice  of  prose  themes  Thoreau  is  suggested.  His 
style  is  notable  for  its  clearness  and  polish,  and  in  this  re- 
spect suggests  Matthew  Arnold  more  than  Thoreau.”  Mr. 
Benton  contributes  to  nearly  all  the  departments  of  the 
modern  newspaper,  and  to  periodicals  that  have  a special 
field.  His  oriental  and  anecdotal  poems  are  especially 
numerous,  and  very  many  of  his  pieces  have  appeared  in 
book  collections,  and  very  widely  through  the  press. 


Emerson  as  a Poet. 


He  makes  in  a measure  his  own  way  and 
form.  Mr.  Benton  quoted,  on  this  point, 
Emerson’s  lines  where  he  says : 

“ I hold  it  of  little  matter 
Whether  your  jewel  be  of  pure  water, 

A rose  diamond  or  a white, 

But  whether  it  dazzle  me  with  light.” 

Landor  says,  in  his  “Imaginary  Con- 
versations,” that  “ a rib  of  Shakespeare 
would  have  made  Milton  ; the  same  por- 
tion of  Milton,  all  poets  born  ever  since.” 

Something  of  this  largeness  and  inten- 
sity— this  supremacy  of  genius  — be- 
longs to  Emerson.  So  dense  and  pervad- 
ing is  his  peculiar  and  individual  force, 
that  it  might,  if  properly  distributed,  be 
made  to  equip  and  light  a literary  con- 
stellation. We  must  go  back  to  Shakes- 
peare and  Milton  among  English  names 
to  find  an  equally  enormous  endowment. 
But  this  is  not  so  much  an  assertion  of  his 
versatility  as  of  his  altitude.  The  author 
said : Among  his  contemporaries  we  may 
have,  to  be  sure,  notable  men  of  a more 
composite  order,  but  no  personality  at 
once  so  compact,  so  essence-like,  so  opu- 
lent, so  strong. 

One  need  not  go  far,  of  course,  to  see 
why  Emerson’s  poetry  is  not  accepted  and 
popular  in  the  waj'  that  Longfellow’s  or 
Whittier’s  is  ; for  he  does  not  aim  to  me- 
diate to  the  average  mind  and  will  not 
address  the  careless  and  irresolute  thought. 
He  shuns  the  dramatic  form,  omits  the 
shining  thread  of  narrative,  and  cannot 
stoop  to  tickle  an  ephemeral  and  idle 
fancy.  His  lack  of  recognition  as  a poet  is, 
after  all,  curious  ; and  it  will  not  do  to  say 
that  this  is  all  owing  to  his  depth  and  ob- 
seu rity,  for  Browning  is  even  more  subtle 
and  complex,  and  yet  a whole  body  of 
literary  criticism  either  endows  him  with 
praise,  or  wdth  the  most  complimentary 
fault-finding. 

But  we  must  remark  a difference  even 
in  opacities.  Emerson’s  dimness  seems 
more  directly  a necessary  incident,  and 


6 1 


less  an  invention.  It  is  not  so  wilful- 
appearing  as  the  English  poet’s.  If  he 
exploits  new  idioms  in  his  speech,  he  is 
not  so  full  of  incessant  syntactical  con- 
tortions ; nor  is  there  such  a conglomera- 
tion of  broken  sentences  gluing  together 
fragments  of  thought  which  he  begins  to 
utter  and  then  drops,  as  Browning  uses, 
leaving  you  to  pursue  your  way  out  of 
darkness  into  light  as  best  you  may.  Em- 
erson’s opacity  relates  more  reasonably  to 
the  magnitude  of  his  thought. 

Apart  from  it  all,  however,  he  has  abun- 
dant fluid  beauty,  which  ought  to  be  fa- 
miliar aiid  accessible  to  any  reader  to  whom 
the  best  of  poetry  has  anything  to  offer. 
He  uses  “thunder  words,”  as  the  German 
phrase  puts  it,  which  fill  with  lightning  all 
the  circuits  of  the  sk}' ; but  they  are  there 
for  a purpose.  Oftener  than  anything,  I 
suspect,  which  troubles  the  average  mind 
that  approaches  this  incomparably  fine 
body  of  verse,  is  its  unremitting,  tremen- 
dous coudensation  of  thought.  If  Emer- 
son were  to  touch  a trifle,  the  blow  would 
be  delivered  with  the  weight  of  a trip-ham- 
mer ; yet,  as  that  instrument  is  sometimes 
successfully  used  to  crack  a walnut,  so 
his  reserve  force,  alwa3's  apparent  and 
dominant,  gives  weight  to  the  most  airy 
expression. 

One  can  best  understand  the  nature  of 
Emerson’s  poetry  bj1  noticing  the  perspec- 
tive he  employs.  He  says  in  “Merlin” 
(and  further  extracts  are  applicable)  : 

“ The  trivial  harp  will  never  please 
Or  fill  my  craving  ear; 

Its  chords  should  ring  as  blows  the  breeze, 
Full,  peremptory,  clear. 

No  jingling  serenader’s  art, 

No  tinkle  of  piano’s  strings 
Can  make  the  wild  blood  start 
In  its  mystic  springs.” 

Emerson  is  poetically  related  to  Hafiz 
and  Firdusi,  and  the  Oriental  muse.  He 
not  onl}’  takes  an  Oriental  freedom  in  his 
measures ; he  employs,  as  the  Asiatic 
bards  do,  all  the  machinery  of  subtle, 


62 


j Reminiscences. 


unexpected,  and  fantastic  conceit.  His 
sensitive  harp  catches  in  the  air  man|| 
tones.  You  find  echoes  of  Marlowe, 
Chapman,  Milton,  Marvell,  Herbert,  Her- 
rick and  Donne,  and  of  all  schools,  chords 
which  go  round  the  world  and  through  the 
centuries ; and  notably  that  rich,  that 
prodigal,  luxurious  and  quintessential  attar 
which  Hows  from  the  realm  of  the  rising 
sun. 

I am  perpetually  impressed  with  the 
high  majesty  and  solemnity  of  Emerson’s 
muse.  If  it  touches  anything  trivial  or 
commonplace,  it  does  not  leave  it  so. 
“ When  we  speak  of  the  poet  in  any  high 
sense,”  he  says  himself,  “we  are  drawn  to 
such  examples  as  Zoroaster  and  Plato,  St. 
John  and  Menu,  with  their  moral  burdens.” 

Our  delight  in  Emerson  springs  from 
his  altitude  of  vision.  No  writer  I know 
of  soars  so  high.  A proverb-like  fullness, 
magnetic  force,  perpetual  surprise,  charac- 
terize his  writing.  The  ZEolian  harp  and 
the  pine-tree  fitly  express  his  genius. 
Emerson’s  poetry  is  alive  with  moral  pur- 
port and  motive.  He  never  revels  in  art 
for  art’s  sake.  His  poetry  is  the  mouth- 
piece of  the  moral  sentiment,  the  breath 
of  the  “oversoul.”  Emerson  reports  the 
correspondence  between  the  soul  and  mate- 
rial things.  He  reminds  one  of  Sweden- 
borg, or,  again,  of  Wordsworth.  The  sea 
and  the  mountains  spoke  to  him.  He  con- 
stantly surprises  us  by  crowding  unex- 
pected meaning  into  his  words. 


If  we  speak  of  his  mode  of  composition, 
with  what  pure  selection  he  chooses  every 
word.  His  whole  lifetime  has  gone  into 
the  making  of  a few  volumes  ; but  what 
wit  and  strength  and  beauty  and  eloquence 
they  uphold  ! What  a supreme,  audacious 
splendor ! 

In  all  that  Emerson  offers  — in  the  prose 
no  less  than  the  poetry  — you  find  a con- 
stant relation  to  the  breadth  of  some 
endless  horizon.  Each  line  is  an  arrow, 
swept  across,  or  into  the  centre  of  the 
universe  ; and  it  is  not  a common  divinity 
that  has  drawn  the  bow.  The  stimulus 
and  inspiration  which  inhere  in  Emerson’s 
words  are  matchless.  Their  melody  is  not 
only  unique  but  supreme  — 

“ a melody  born  of  melody, 

Which  melts  the  world  into  a sea; 

Toil  could  never  compass  it, 

Art  its  height  could  never  hit, 

It  came  never  out  of  wit.” 

[The  foregoing  gives  but  a partial  view 
of  Mr.  Benton’s  essay,  the  largest  part  of 
which  will  not  readily  enter  into  a brief 
synopsis.  Mingled  with  the  argument 
were  a multitude  of  illustrations,  some  of 
which  contain  lines  from  Emerson  not  to 
be  found  in  his  published  books  ; and  one 
of  which  has  never  been  printed  in  any 
form  whatever,  and  was  given  to  Mr. 
Benton,  many  years  ago,  by  Mr.  Emerson 
himself.] 


REMINISCENCES. 

BY  MRS.  JOI.IA  WARD  HOWE. 


T FIRST  remember  Emerson  as  the  au- 
thor  of  “Nature.”  When  I first  saw 
the  little  book,  which  had  no  external  at- 
tractions, I thought  nothing  of  it ; I said 
to  myself,  “ Here  is  some  American  preten- 
der. Have  we  not  the  great  thinkers  in  Eng- 
land and  can  we  rival  them  in  America?” 


I next  heard  of  Emerson  apart  from  his 
book.  1 heard  him  spoken  of  as  a heretic, 
a man  nobody  could  understand.  I thought 
him  an  irreligious  man.  At  a later  day  I 
was  introduced  to  him  by  a Boston  friend, 
but  shrank  from  the  acquaintance.  I next 
saw  him  in  a waiting-place  where  all  of  us 


Dialectic  Unity  in  Emerson' s Prose  Writings. 


6.3, 


were  shivering  with  the  cold.  In  the  com- 
pany was  a child  two  years  old,  whom  he 
put  on  his  shoulders  and  presented  to  me, 
saying  in  his  original  way,  “This  is  a 
young  traveller.”  The  steamer  we  were 
to  take  was  belated  and  we  had  most 
of  our  journey  by  da3T.  Mr.  Emerson 
sought  me  out.  I was  charmed  by  his 
manner,  but  still  I thought  that  he  was 
only  a more  charming  personation  of 
Satan  in  the  world  than  I had  before  seen. 
He  asked  me  if  I knew  Margaret  Fuller. 
I told  him  I thought  her  an  ugly  person. 
He  then  dwelt  upon  her  mind  and  conver- 
sation. I was  still  impressed  b3r  what 
he  said  and  the  sweetness  of  his  manner 
of  sa3’ing  it. 

I next  heard  him  deliver  one  of  his 
lectures,  and  the  voice  and  words  brought 
their  own  explanation.  I then  understood 
how  a man’s  previous  reputation  may  fail 
to  explain  him  to  the  public.  He  was  uni- 
versally laughed  at  then  in  high  society', 
and  it  is  not  pleasant  to  remember  that 
ridicule  now.  I was  pleased  to  hear  him 
called  Christ-like  by  Dr.  Bartol.  He  had 


a look  of  power  that  did  not  show  itself  in 
the  garb  of  power.  Who  can  give  us  that 
that  look  of  inward  meaning  again  ? Even 
in  his  serenity,  what  a charm  ! He  had 
genuine  honesty’  of  speech.  Had  he  been 
St.  Peter,  so  just  was  he  that  he  would 
have  administered  exact  justice  at  the  gate 
of  heaven,  and  if  he  had  not  liked  the 
company  he  had  admitted  there,  he  would 
have  escaped  to  a heaven  of  his  own. 

Mr.  Emerson  has  given  us  sunshine. 
Once,  very  weary,  after  a long  western 
journey,  and  going  to  a cheerless  hotel  at 
an  earl3r  morning  hour,  the  only  refuge 
from  weariness  I could  find  was  a stray 
volume  of  his  that  happened  to  be  at 
hand,  and  then  I was  truly’  warmed  and 
fed  by  him.  He  had  power  to  take  peo- 
ple into  realms  of  thought  and  life.  It  is 
a pleasant  thing  that  most  of  us  have  seen 
and  known  him,  but  to  others  who  have 
not,  the  legacy  of  his  thought  will  be  per- 
manent. The  lessons  he  taught  will  be 
kept  and  understood  and  appreciated  more 
and  more. 


DIALECTIC  UNITY  IN  EMERSON’S  PROSE  WRITINGS. 

BY  DR.  HARRIS. 


[First  of  the  afternoon  exercises  was 
Dr.  Harris’s  paper  upon  the  “ Dialectic 
Unity  in  Emerson’s  Prose  Writings.”] 

OPEAKING  of  the  complaint  that  Em- 
^ erson’s  essay’s  lack  unity,  that  the 
sentences  could  be  read  in  airy  other  order 
as  well  as  that  in  which  they  are  printed, 
Dr.  Harris  said  that  in  the  prose  essay’ 
we  cannot  expect  organic  unity’,  but  we 
may  expect  rhetorical  unity  and  logical 
unity.  There  need  be  no  formal  syllo- 
gisms; the  closest  unity  of  the  logical 


kind  is  the  dialectic  unity’  that  begins  with 
the  simplest  and  most  obvious  phase  of 
the  subject,  and  discovers  by’  investiga- 
tion the  next  phase  that  naturally  follows. 
It  is  an  unfolding  of  the  subject  according 
to  its  natural  growth  in  experience.  Em- 
erson has  furnished  us  many  very  wonder- 
ful examples  of  dialectic  treatment  of  his 
subject.  But  lie  has  been  very'  careful  to 
avoid  the  show  of  ratiocination  and  the 
parade  of  proof-making.  The  object  of  his 
writing  was  to  present  truth,  and  to  pro- 
duce insight,  and  not  to  make  proselytes. 


Dialectic  Unity  in  Emerson's  Prose,  Writings. 


64 

The  student  of  literature  who  wishes  to 
learn  the  dialectic  art,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  become  acquainted  with  the  gene- 
sis of  Emerson’s  viewT  of  the  world,  should 
study  the  essay  on  “ Experience  ” in  the 
second  series  of  essays.  In  this  wonder- 
ful piece  of  writing  we  have  a compend  of 
his  insights  into  life  and  nature  arranged 
in  dialectic  order.  Master  his  treatment 
of  the  topics  and  you  will  discover  what 
constitute  real  steps  of  progress  in  experi- 
ence, and  at  the  same  time  you  will  learn 
howT  the  first  grows  into  the  second,  and 
that  into  the  next,  and  so  on  to  the  high- 
est view  of  the  world  that  he  has  attained, 
or  to  the  final  view  reached  by  men  of 
deepest  insight,  called  seers.  He  names 
these  steps  or  stadia  in  experience,  illu- 
sion, temperament,  succession,  surface, 
surprise,  reality  and  subjectiveness. 

The  first  phase  of  experience,  according 
to  him,  brings  us  to  the  consciousness  of 
illusion.  This  is  a great  step.  At  the 
first  start  in  culture,  long  since  begun  even 
among  the  lowest  savages,  there  appears 
the  conviction  that  there  is  more  in  things 
than  appears  at  first  sight.  Things  are 
fragments  of  larger  things  ; facts  are  frag- 
ments of  larger  facts.  Things  escape  us, 
and  thus  “dream  delivers  us  to  dream, 
and  there  is  no  end  to  illusion.  Life  is  a 
train  of  moods  like  a string  of  beads,  and, 
as  we  pass  through  them,  they  prove  to  be 
manj’-colored  lenses  which  paint  the  world 
their  owrn  hue,  and  each  shows  only  what 
lies  in  its  focus.”  What  experience  comes 
next  after  this  one  of  illusion  ? Evidently 
the  perception  of  conditioning  circum- 
stance, the  perception  of  fate  or  external 
influence,  which  may  be  called  tempera- 
ment. Structure  or  temperament  “ pre- 
vails over  everything  of  time,  place  and 
condition,  and  is  inconsumable  in  the 
flames  of  religion.”  When  experience  has 
exhausted  the  view  of  temperament  it 
finds  that  it  has  learned  the  necessity  of 
succession  in  objects.  Temperament  is 
no  finality,  for  it  produces  no  ultimate 


state  or  condition,  but  succeeds  only  in 
making  a transitory  impression.  We  pass 
out  of  this  stadium  of  experience  and 
enter  on  the  theory  of  the  world  that  sees 
change  and  succession  according  to  some 
law  or  other.  We  look  now  for  that  law. 
When  we  see  the  law  we  shall  understand 
the  order  of  sequence,  and  can  map  out 
the  orbit  of  life  and  things.  This  view 
of  the  necessary  order  of  sequence  is  a 
view  of  the  whole,  and  hence  a view  of 
the  fixed  and  stable. 

Emerson  calls  the  view  of  the  law  of 
chaiige  “ surface,”  as  if  the  seeing  of  a 
line  as  a whole  were  the  seeing  of  a sur- 
face. We  think  today  that  we  have  taken 
in  all  the  metamorphoses  of  the  object  of 
investigation,  but  tomorrowr  we  discover 
new  ones  and  have  to  enlarge  our  descrip- 
tion. “Surface”  expands  and  we  make 
new  theories  of  the  law.  Emerson  calls 
the  next  form  of  experience  “ surprise,” 
because  it  begins  with  the  insight  made  in 
some  high  moment  of  life,  when  for  the 
first  time  one  gets  a glimpse  of  the  form 
of  the  whole.  The  whole  does  not  admit 
of  such  predicates  as  w7e  apply  to  the  part 
or  fragment.  The  dependent  has  one  law, 
and  the  independent  has  another.  The 
dependent  presupposes  something,  it  is  a 
relative  existence,  and  its  being  is  in 
another.  The  independent  is  self-con- 
tained, self-active,  self-determined,  causa, 
sui.  By  these  moments  of  “ surprise,” 
therefore,  we  ascend  to  a new  plane  of 
experience,  no  longer  haunted  by  those 
dismal  spectres  of  illusion,  temperament, 
change  and  surface,  or  mechanic,  fixed 
laws.  Things  are  not  fragments  of  a vast 
machine,  nor  are  men  links  in  a cosmic 
process  that  first  develops  and  then  crushes 
them.  Things  do  not  exist  in  succession, 
as  it  before  seemed  to  us,  but  the  true, 
real  existence  that  we  have  found  is  always 
the  same.  We  enter  through  the  mo- 
ments of  surprise  into  the  realms  of  in- 
sight into  reality.  Hence  reality  is  Emer- 
son’s sixth  category  of  experience.  “ By 


Dialectic  Unity  in  Emerson's  Prose  Writings.  6 5 


persisting  to  read  or  to  think,  this  region 
gives  further  sign  of  itself,  as  it  were,  in 
flashes  of  light,  in  sudden  discoveries  of  its 
profound  beauty  and  repose,  as  if  the 
clouds  that  covered  it  parted  at  intervals 
and  showed  the  approaching  traveller  the 
inland  mountains,  with  the  tranquil  eter- 
nal meadows  spread  at  their  base,  whereon 
flocks  graze  and  shepherds  pipe  and 
dance.” 

One  more  step  experience  takes  — it 
identifies  the  deepest  reality  as  of  one 
nature  with  itself.  The  absolute  is  mind. 
Emerson  names  this  step  of  insight  “ sub- 
jectiveness,” because  in  it  we  arrive  at  the 
conviction  that  the  absolute  is  subject  and 
not  merely  unconscious  law  or  power.  At 
this  highest  point  of  experience  we  reach 
the  station  of  the  seer,  the  culmination 
of  human  experience.  The  seer  as  phi- 
losopher sees  the  highest  principle  to  be 
reason  ; the  poet  sees  the  world  to  be  the 
expression  of  reason ; the  prophet  and 
law-giver  see  reason  as  the  authoritative, 
regulative'  principle  of  life ; the  hero  sees 
reason  as  a concrete  guiding  force  in 
society.  In  a certain  sense  many  others 
of  Emerson's  writings  are  expansions  and 
confirmations  of  some  one  of  these  phases 
of  experience. 

The  essajr  on  ‘"The  Over-Soul”  treats 
of  succession,  surface,  and  reality,  under 
other  names  ; that  on  Spiritual  Laws,  on 
reality  and  subjectiveness  ; that  on  Fate 
treats  of  temperament  and  succession ; 
those  on  Worship,  History,  Gifts,  Hero- 
ism, Love,  and  such  titles,  treat  of  sub- 
jectiveness. His  treatises  on  concrete 
themes  use  these  insights  perpetually  as 
solvent  principles  — but  always  with  fresh 
statement  and  new  resources  of  poetic 
expression.  There  is  nowhere  in  all  liter- 
ature such  sustained  flight  toward  the  sun 
— “a  flight,”  as  Plotinus  calls  it,  “ of  the 
alone  to  the  Alone  ” — as  that  in  “ The 
Over-Soul,”  wherein  Emerson,  throughout 
a long  essay,  unfolds  the  insights,  briefly 


and  adequately  explained  under  the  topic 
of  “surprise”  in  the  essay  on  Experience. 
It  would  seem  as  if  each  paragraph  stated 
the  ideas  of  the  whole  and  then  again  that 
each  sentence  in  each  paragraph  reflected 
entire  the  same  idea. 

In  those  essays  in  which  Emerson  has 
celebrated  this  doctrine  of  the  highest 
reality  and  its  subjectivity  or  rational  na- 
ture, its  revelation  to  us,  he  writes  in  a 
style  elevated  above  dialectic  unity  and 
uses  a higher  form  of  unity  — that  of  ab- 
solute identity.  To  give  one  specimen  of 
this  Dr.  Harris  offered  a very  short  analy- 
sis of  the  contents  of  the  essay  on  “ The 
Over-Soul.”  He  saj-s  in  substance  that 
man  has  some  moments  in  his  life  when 
he  sees  deeply  into  reality ; what  he  sees 
then  has  authority  over  the  other  parts  of 
his  life.  He  sees  principles  of  justice, 
love,  freedom  and  power,  — attributes  of 
God.  This  seeing  is  the  common  element 
in  all  minds,  and  transcendent  of  the  limi- 
tations of  particular  individuals.  Just  as 
events  flow  down  from  a hidden  source, 
so  these  ideas  and  insights  descend  into 
the  mind.  He  calls  this  the  “ over-soul,” 
a “ unity  within  which  every  man’s  being 
is  contained  and  made  one  with  every 
other.  Although  we  live  in  division  and 
succession,  and  see  the  world  piece  by 
piece,  yet  the  soul  is  the  whole,  and  this 
is  the  highest  law.”  These  glimpses  of 
the  eternal  verity  come  on  occasions  of 
conversation,  reverie,  remorse,  dreams  and 
times  of  passion.  We  learn  that  the  soul 
is  not  an  organ,  but  that  which  animates 
all  organs  ; not  a faculty,  but  a light,  and 
the  master  of  the  intellect  and  will.  Indi- 
vidual man  is  only  the  organ  of  the  soul. 
These  deeps  of  the  spiritual  nature  are  ac- 
cessible to  all  men  at  some  time.  The  sov- 
ereignty of  the  over-soul  is  shown  by  its 
independence  of  all  limitation.  Time, 
space  and  circumstance  do  not  change  its 
attributes.  Its  presence  does  not  make 
a progress  measurable  by  time,  but  it  pro- 


66 


Reminiscences  and  Eulogy. 


duces  metamorphoses  causing  us  to  ascend 
from  one  plane  of  experience  to  the  next, 
— as  great  a change  as  from  egg  to  worm, 
or  from  worm  to  fly.  Society  and  institu- 
tions reveal  this  common  nature,  or  the 
higher  person  or  impersonal  One  ; for,  in 
order  to  prevent  the  confusion  of  attrib- 
uting to  the  over-soul  the  passions  and 
imperfections  of  human  personality,  Em- 
erson sometimes  speaks  of  Him  as  imper- 
sonal (using  Cousin’s  expression) . The 
thought  of  the  revelation  of  the  soul  in 
man  and  nature  is  the  idea  that  forms  the 
unit}'  of  all  that  Emerson  has  written, 
whether  it  be  in  an  essay  like  “ The  Over- 
Soul,”  or  in  historical  and  critical  studies 
like  “English  Traits”  and  “ Representa- 
tive Men,”  or  in  poems  of  nature  like 
“ Monadnoc.”  One  will  find  everywhere, 
though  under  slightly^  different  names,  the 
elements  of  experience  which  are  named 


in  this  sublime  poem  prefixed  to  the  essay 
on  Experience : — 

The  lords  of  life,  the  lords  of  life, 

I saw  them  pass 
In  their  own  guise, 

Like  and  unlike, 

Portly  and  grim, 

Use  and  surprise, 

Surface  and  dream, 

Succession  swift  and  spectral  wrong, 
Temperament  without  a tongue, 

And  the  inventor  of  the  game, 

Omnipresent  without  name; 

Some  to  see,  some  to  be  guessed, 

They  marched  from  east  to  west ; 

Little  man,  least  of  all, 

Among  the  legs  of  his  guardians  tall, 
Walked  about  with  puzzled  look. 

Him  by  the  hand  dear  Nature  took, 

Dearest  Nature,  strong  and  kind, 
Whispered  : “ Darling,  never  mind! 
Tomorrow  they  will  wear  another  face, 

The  founder  tliou ; these  are  thy  race ! ’ 


REMINISCENCE  AND  EULOGY.1 

BY  JOHN  ALBEE. 


nHHERE  was  perhaps  more  congruity  in 
the  presence  and  conversation  of 
Emerson  with  the  ideal  one  naturally 
formed  of  him  than  usually  happens.  I 
think  this  is  partly  the  cause  of  the 
powerful  impression  he  has  made  upon 
his  contemporaries.  His  manner  of  life, 
the  man  himself,  was  at  one  with  his 
thought ; his  thought  at  one  with  its 
expression.  There  were  no  paradoxes, 
none  of  the  supposed  weaknesses  of 
genius,  to  wonder  at  or  to  be  forgiven 
and  forgotten.  He  spoke  of  Nature  not 
as  an  elegant  ornament  of  his  pages,  but 
because  he  lived  near  to  her.  In  meeting 
him,  the  disappointments,  if  any  there 


were,  one  found  in  himself.  For  he  meas- 
ured men  so  that  the}'  became  aware  of 
their  own  state  ; not  oppressively,  but  by 
a flashing,  inward  illumination,  because 
he  placed  something  to  their  credit  that 
could  not  stand  the  test  of  their  own  audit. 

After  I had  read  in  Emerson  for  some 
time  I had  the  boldness  to  write  to  him 
and  the  good  fortune  to  be  answered.  In 
my  note  I had  solicited  his  opinion  in  re- 
gard to  college  education.  I will  quote 
so  much  of  his  reply  as  is  not  personal  : 
“ To  a brave  soul  it  really  seems  indiffer- 
ent whether  its  tuition  is  in  or  out  of  col- 
lege. And  yet  I confess  to  a strong  bias 
in  favor  of  college.  I think  we  cannot 


i TliE  paper  by  Mr.  Albec  was  punted  in  full  in  the  “New  York  Tribune.' 


Reminiscence  and  Eulogy. 


6 7 


give  ourselves  too  many  advantages  ; and 
he  that  goes  to  Cambridge  has  free  the 
best  of  that  kind.  When  he  has  seen 
their  little  all,  he  will  rate  it  very  moder- 
ately beside  that  which  he  brought  thither. 
There  are  many  things  much  better  than 
a college  ; an  exploring  expedition,  if  one 
could  join  it ; or  the  living  with  any  great 
master  in  one’s  proper  art;  but  in  the 
common  run  of  opportunities  and  with  no 
more  than  the  common  proportion  of  en- 
ergy in  ourselves,  a college  is  safest,  from 
its  literary  tone  and  from  the  access  to 
books  it  gives  : mainly  that  it  introduces 
you  to  the  best  of  your  contemporaries. 
But  if  you  can  easily  come  to  Concord  and 
spend  an  afternoon  with  me  we  could  talk 
over  the  whole  case  by  the  river  bank.” 

[In  May,  1852,  the  year  following  that 
in  which  the  invitation  was  given,  the 
visit  to  Concord  was  made.] 

Thoreau  wras  already  there.  I think 
that  he  had  ended  about  that  time  his 
experiments  at  Walden  Pond.  Thoreau 
was  dressed,  I remember,  in  a plain,  neat 
suit  of  dark  clothes,  not  quite  black.  He 
had  a healthy,  out-of-door  appearance. 
He  was  rather  silent,  but  when  he  spoke 
it  was  in  either  a critical  or  witty  vein. 
I did  not  know  who  or  what  he  was ; 
and  I find  in  my  old  diary  of  the  day 
that  I spelt  his  rare  name  phonetically, 
and  heard  afterward  only  that  he  was  a 
man  who  had  been  a hermit.  I ob- 
served that  he  seemed  to  feel  much  at 
home  with  Emerson  ; and  as  he  remained 
through  the  afternoon  and  evening,  and  I 
left  him  still  at  the  fireside,  he  seemed  to 
me  to  belong  in  some  way  to  the  house- 
hold. I observed  also  that  Emersou  con- 
tinually deferred  to  him  and  seemed  to 
anticipate  his  view,  preparing  himself 
obviously  for  a quiet  laugh  at  Thorenu’s 
invariably  negative  and  biting  criticisms  ; 
especially  in  regard  to  education  and  edu- 
cational establishments.  He  was  clearly 
fond  of  Thoreau  ; but  whether  in  a human 


way,  or  as  an  amusement,  I could  not  then 
make  out. 

I find  set  down  in  my  diarj'  of  the  day 
two  or  three  things  which  a thousand  ob- 
servers have  remarked : that  Emerson 
spoke  in  a mild,  peculiar  manner,  justify- 
ing the  text  of  Thoreau  that  “ you  must 
be  calm  before  you  can  utter  oracles  ; ” 
that  he  often  hesitated  for  a word,  but 
that  it  was  the  right  one  he  waited  for  ; 
that  he  sometimes  expressed  himself  mys- 
tically, and  like  a book.  This  meant,  I 
suppose,  that  the  style  and  subjects  were 
novel  to  me,  being  then  only  used  to  the 
slang  of  school-boys  and  the  magisterial 
manner  of  pedagogues.  He  seldom  looked 
in  the  eye  the  person  addressed,  and  seldom 
put  direct  questions.  I fancy  this  was  a 
part  of  his  extreme  delicacy  of  manners. 

As  soon  as  I could  I introduced  the 
problem  I came  to  propound  : What  course 
a young  man  must  take  to  get  the  best 
kind  of  education.  Emerson  pleaded  al- 
waj’s  for  the  college ; said  he  entered 
himself  at  fourteen.  This  aroused  the 
wrath  of  Thoreau,  who  would  not  allow 
an}T  good  to  the  college  course.  And 
here  it  seemed  to  me  Emerson  said  things 
on  purpose  to  draw  Thoreau’s  fire  and  to 
amuse  himself.  When  the  curriculum  at 
Cambridge  was  alluded  to,  and  Emerson 
casualty  remarked  that  most  of  the 
branches  were  taught  there,  Thoreau 
seized  one  of  his  opportunities  and  replied  : 
“ Yes,  indeed,  all  the  branches  and  none 
of  the  roots.”  At  this  Emerson  laughed 
a long  time.  So  without  conclusions,  or 
more  light  than  two  strong  men’s  asser- 
tions can  give,  I heard  for  an  hour  the 
question  I desired  agitated. 

In  his  conversation  with  me,  Emerson 
spoke  more  of  men  and  books  than  of 
nature.  He  commended  Adam  Smith’s 
“Moral  Sentiments;”  also  J.  St.  John’s 
volume  on  “Greek  Manners  and  Customs.” 
Doubtless  he  conformed  himself  to  his  vis- 
itor and  became  a bit  of  a pedagogue.  Then 


68 


Reminiscence  and  Eulogy. 


he  talked  of  Chaucer  with  great  enthusi- 
asm, and  quoted  a couplet  in  a tone  and 
modulation  which  sounded  the  perfect  or- 
gan of  the  lines.  Of  Plato  I remember  his 
saying  that  it  was  a great  day  in  a man’s 
life  when  he  first  read  the  “ Banquet.” 
lie  brought  forth  some  souvenirs  of  men 
and  literature  ; among  them  a daguerre- 
otype of  Carlyle.  He  spoke  of  his 
physiognomy,  his  heavy  eyebrows  and 
projecting  base  of  the  forehead,  underset 
by  the  heavy  lower  jaw  and  lip,  between 
which  as  between  millstones,  he  said,  every 
humbug  was  sure  to  be  pulverized.  The 
brow  pierced  it,  the  jowl  crunched  it!  His 
under  lip,  Emerson  said,  Channing  called 
“ whapper-jawed.”  I asked  him  something 
about  Carlyle’s  manner  of  speech,  remem- 
bering to  have  read  somewhere  of  a pecul- 
iar refrain  in  his  conversation  ; then  he 
good-naturedly  imitated  it  for  me.  He 
said  the  conspicuous  point  in  Carlyle’s 
stjde  was  his  strength  of  statement. 

I amused  myself  iu  looking  over  the 
bookcases  ; and  Emerson  took  down  a vol- 
ume which  he  requested  me  to  read  and 
keep  for  a year.  It  was  George  Herbert’s 
poems.  When  I returned  the  book,  say- 
ing how  much  I had  made  it  my  own, 
Emerson  wrote  me  a welcome  letter  in 
which  he  said,  speaking  of  Herbert,  “ I 
am  glad  you  like  these  old  books  ; or  rather 
glad  that  you  have 

“ Eyes  that  the  beam  celestial  view 
Which  evermore  makes  all  things  new.” 

He  went  on  to  say  : “ There  is  a super-Cad- 
mean  alphabet,  which  when  one  has  once 
learned  the  character,  he  will  find,  as  it 
were,  secretly  inscribed,  look  where  he 
will,  not  only  in  books  and  temples,  but 
in  all  waste  places  and  in  the  dust  of  the 
earth.  Happy  he  that  can  read  it;  for 
lie  will  never  be  lonely  or  thoughtless  again. 
And  yet  there  is  a solid  pleasure  to  find 
those  who  know  and  like  the  same  thing, 
the  authors  who  have  recorded  their  inter- 
pretation of  the  legend  and,  better  far,  the 


living  friends  who  read  as  we  do,  and  com- 
pare notes  with  us.” 

George  Herbert  recalls  to  me  Emerson’s 
remarking,  in  regard  to  the  proper  part  of 
the  day  for  study,  that  we  must  be  Stoics 
in  the  morning  ; that  it  would  do  to  relax 
a little  in  the  evening  ; and  his  quoting  in 
illustration  a somewhat  Orphic  proverb 
from  George  Herbert’s  “ Jacula  Pruclen- 
tum  “In  the  morning,  mountains  ; in 
the  evening,  fountains.” 

Besides  these  fragments  out  of  the  hours 
I spent  with  Emerson,  I find  in  my  memo- 
randa that  he  held  a light  opinion  of  things 
this  side  the  water ; that  we  Americans 
are  solemn  on  trifles  and  superficial  in 
the  weighty  ; that  there  is  no  American  lit- 
erature. Griswold  says  there  is  ; but  it  is 
his  merchandise— he  keeps  its  shop.  Had 
Emerson  also  forgotten  the  Rev.  Cotton 
Mather’s  three  hundred  and  eighty-two 
works?  He  said  we  needed  some  great 
poets,  orators.  He  was  always  looking 
out  for  them,  and  was  sure  the  new  gener- 
ation of  young  men  would  contain  some. 
Thoreau  said  he  had  found  one,  in  the 
woods,  but  it  had  feathers  and  had  not  been 
to  Harvard  College.  Still  it  had  voice  and 
an  aerial  inclination,  which  was  pretty 
much  all  that  was  needed.  “ Let  us  cage 
it,”  said  Emerson.  “That  is  just  the 
way  the  world  always  spoils  its  poets,”  re- 
sponded Thoreau.  Then  Thoreau,  as  usual, 
had  the  last  word. 

Emerson’s  hope  and  generosity  were  the 
source  of  his  intellectual  power.  Not  a 
descent  through  seven  generations  gave 
it,  but  an  ascent  through  the  long  but 
broken  lines  of  loftiest  genius  of  all  ages. 

“Nature’s  bequest  gives  nothing,  but  doth  lend  ; 
And  being  frank,  she  lends  to  those  are  free.” 

Since  the  days  of  Socrates  no  young  men 
have  been  more  fortunate  than  those  who 
came  into  the  circle  of  his  influence  and 
acquaintance.  But  there  were  others  who 
wished  to  gather  some  marketable  fruit 
from  this  elm.  There  were  those  who 


The  Consolation, 


69 


wished  to  subsidize  him  to  some  school, 
part}',  or  sect.  I think  that  Emerson 
knew  his  interlocutor,  his  man,  very  well. 

He  had  not  packed  your  trunk,  but  he 
divined  its  contents.  lie  did  not  resist 
too  much  ; he  did  not  waste  his  force  in 
vain  disputation,  but  obeyed  the  Greek 
verse  : 

“ When  to  be  wise  is  all  in  vain,  be  not  wise  at 
all 

and  I have  heard  of  him  going  to  bed  to 
escape  argument.  He  punished  the  West- 
ern men  who  pressed  him  too  hard  with 
question  and  objection,  by  reporting  that 
the  St.  Louis  logicians  rolled  him  in  the 
mud ! 

He  knew  his  man  well.  His  kindness 
and  tact  were  never  at  fault.  Some  one 
has  related  that  calling  on  him,  he  fumbled 
about  his  room  for — a ripe  pear  ! Well, 
he  understood  when  to  proffer  pears  and 
when  ideas.  The  Pythian  oracle  was  am- 
biguous when  the  suppliant  came  upon  a 
trivial  errand.  When  men  came  only  to 
have  their  fortunes  told,  or  to  know  how 
their  peddling  would  prosper,  the  response 
became  confused  and  diminished.  it  did 


not  know  what  to  say.  Then  men  accused 
it  of  obscurity  and  prevarication.  They 
silenced  what  should  have  silenced  them. 
Emerson  refused  to  dogmatize  about  what 
is  necessarily  obscure  at  present.  So  some 
thought  him  on  that  account  obscure. 

To  all  that  man  has  achieved,  and  to  all 
man’s  hopes,  he  was  vividly  responsive, 
and  maintained  no  doubtful  station.  In 
poetry  and  nature,  wherein  he  was  great- 
est, it  is  to  be  considered  that  the  most  per- 
fect imaginative  expression  is  so  identified 
with  objects  themselves  as  necessarily  to 
share  in  their  mystery,  and  to  be  capa- 
ble of  their  own  manifold  interpretation. 
He  discovered  a new  method  of  thinking 
about  man  and  nature  ; he  endeavored  to 
report  what  they  said  to  him  in  their  inmost 
being.  Others  have  used  them  as  symbols 
of  life  ; he  tried  to  penetrate  the  symbol 
itself.  This  gave  an  elevation  to  his  st}ie, 
so  that  error  was  glad  to  be  vanquished  by 
such  a serene  voice,  and  fell  down  without 
noise  or  commotion. 

“A  gentle  death  did  Falsehood  die, 

Shot  thro’  and  thro’  with  cunning  words.” 


THE  CONSOLATION. 

BY  MRS.  MARTHA  P.  LOWE.1 

rj^lIE  world  is  very  lonely  now 

That  our  dear  sage  has  gone  away, 
We  cannot,  in  our  grief  see  how 
It  is  worth  while  for  us  to  stay; 

Yet  this,  our  poet-preacher  would  not  say. 


1 Martha  A.  Perry  was  born  in  Keene,  N.  H.,  Nov.  21, 
1829.  She  spent  her  childhood  in  Keene,  and  afterward 
was  sent  for  education  to  the  school  of  Mrs.  Charles  Sedg- 
wick at  Lenox,  Mass.,  and  then  to  Boston.  At  the  age  of 
nineteen  she  spent  a winter  in  the  West  Indies,  and  later, 
passed  a winter  in  Spain  with  her  brother,  Mr.  H.  J. 
Perry,  then  secretary  of  legation  to  Spain.  On  Sept.  16, 
1857,  she  was  married  to  the  Rev.  Charles  Lowe,  a prom- 
inent preacher  and  leader  in  the  Unitarian  denomination. 
A year  after  her  marriage  she  published  a small  volume  of 
poems  called  “ The  Olive  and  the  Pine,”  being  scenes  in 


Spain  and  New  England.  A few  years  later  she  published 
another  volume  called  “Love  in  Spain,  and  Other  Poems.” 
She  went  a second  time  to  Europe,  and,  after  the  death  of 
her  husband,  she  was  placed  on  the  editorial  staff  of  the 
“ Unitarian  Review,”  a periodical  established  by  Mr.  Lowe. 
She  has  continued  to  work  in  this  department,  and  also  to 
furnish  prose  and  verse  for  various  journals  and  magazines. 
The  last  year,  she  published  a little  illustrated  book  called 
the  “ Story  of  Chief  Joseph,”  being  a poetic  version  of 
that  chief’s  story  as  told  by  himself,  and  reported  by 
Bishop  Hare  in  the  “North  American  Review.” 


Emerson  as  a Philosopher. 


But  every  true  and  loyal  soul 
Is  setting  sail  for  happier  zone, 

And  we  have  left  us  here  the  whole 
Wide  empty  earth,  to  call  our  own; 

With  God,  he  says,  we  cannot  be  alone. 

llis  spirit,  delicate  and  fine, 

Was  blended  with  the  heart  of  things 
In  rhythmic  harmony  divine, 

Which  from  the  fount  of  nature  springs, 
And  so  again  to  those  who  hear  he  sings. 

For  he  was  with  the  heavenly  powers, 

While  he  abode  with  us  below, 

And,  though  we  fondly  called  him  ours, 

We  knew  not  whither  he  would  go, 

Nor  half  the  mysteries  he  learned  to  know. 

He  seemed  a shining  part  of  all 
The  starry  realms  of  space  above, 

And  yet  in  homage  he  did  fall 
Before  this  lower  sphere  of  love; 

He  soared  afar,  but  came  back  like  the  dove. 

So  he  will  find  this  dwelling-place, 

Even  now  that  they  have  claimed  him  there, 
And  wear  the  morning  on  his  face, 

A presence  from  the  upper  air, 

As  soft  as  sunbeams,  and  as  light  as  prayer. 


EMERSON  AS  A PHILOSOPHER. 


BY  ALEXANDER  WILDER,  M.D.1 


A GREAT  writer,  one  of  the  world’s 
seers,  has  demanded:  “Is  life  in 
us,  or  are  we  in  life?”  The  answer  de- 
lines  our  errand  here  today.  If  life  is 
simply  in  us,  then  Emerson  has  indeed  gone, 
ceasing  to  be  with  us  ; but  if  we  all  are 
in  life,  he  is  here  still,  and  we  are  rather 
exchanging  our  felicitations  than  seeking 
to  preserve  a memorial. 


Unlike  the  others  who  have  spoken,  I 
did  not  know  Emerson.  I am  not  pre- 
pared, therefore,  to  speak  in  elegy  or 
eulogy.  I did  not  enjoy  his  personal 
acquaintance,  never  took  him  by  the  hand, 
never  saw  a word  traced  by  his  pen,  never 
received  any  word  of  commendation,  en- 
couragement or  benediction  from  him. 
When  I knew  Emerson  it  was  in  the 


1 Alexander  Wilder,  M.D.,  was  Lorn  at  Verona,  N.  Y.,  Repository  ” and  New  York  “Evening  Post”  from  1858-71, 
May  13,  1823.  He  was  for  some  years  a teacher;  was  also  to  the  “ Medical  Review  ” and  “ Medical  Eclectic  ” and 
editor  of  the  Syracuse  "Star”  in  1852  and  of  the  “Jour-  was  president  of  the  Eclectic  Medical  Society  of  New 
nal  ” in  1853;  was  in  the  New  York  State  Department  of  York  in  1809-70.  He  is  now  Professor  of  Psychological 
Public  Instruction  in  1854-5;  editor  of  the  New  York  Science  in  the  United  States  Medical  College  in  New  York 
“ Teacher”  in  1855;  of  the  “ College  Review  ” in  1856;  was  city,  and  is  author  of  numerous  papers  on  metaphysical 
a contributor  to  the  “Anglo-American,”  “New  Church  and  mythological  subjects. 


Emerson  as  a Philosopher. 


7i 


Foreworlcl,  where  we  all  in  common  par- 
ticipate in  the  knowledge  of  the  Infinite. 
Never  did  he  whollj’  leave  that  region. 
But  little  of  him  was  ever  fixed  to  the 
body,  or  even  to  that  countenance  so 
familiar  to  J'ou,  so  beloved  by  all  who 
are  now  present.  That  great  transcendent 
spirit  reached  out  — extended;  was  even 
back  beyond  genesis  and  the  changeable, 
among  the  fire-breathing,  eternal  stars.  It 
had  no  lapse  or  departure  away  from  its 
God.  We  do  not  dismiss  him  thither. 
He  rnerety  ceases  to  tenant  a house  of 
earth  ; but,  meanwhile,  he  is  present  and 
abiding  here,  a spirit  mingled  with  us.  It 
was  said  that  he  who  invokes  Brahma  in 
sacred  chant  has  Brahma  at  that  very 
moment  responding  in  him.  So  those 
here  to  honor  Emerson  are  acting  and 
speaking  with  Emerson’s  voice  and  in- 
spiration. 

I remember  well  wdien  I first  heard  his 
name.  It  was  when  I had  just  begun  to 
cherish  a faith  which  no  formulated  credo 
expressed,  seeking  to  apprehend  the  Unit3' 
beyond  diversity,  and  the  divine  sonship 
which  overleaped  the  limits  of  religious 
bond-service.  In  an  eager  moment,  I was 
listening  to  a conversation  between  two 
persons,  older  and  more  skilled  in  that 
culture  for  which  New  England  affords 
opportunity.  They  were  speaking  of  Car- 
lyle. I had  read  a little  of  his  story  of 
Kobespierre,  the  Gironde,  and  the  French 
Revolution.  One  of  the  speakers,  a lady, 
suggested  that  Mr.  Emerson  was  imitating 
Carlyle.  I have  read  both,  since  that  time. 
It  may  seem  from  the  title  that  “ Heroes 
and  Hero-Worship”  had  been  copied  in 
the  “Representative  Men.”  Yeti  am  at 
a loss  how  to  trace  the  rugged  Norse  utter- 
ances, at  times  almost  grotesque,  of  the 
Scotchman,  in  the  careful  Grecian  sen- 
tences, with  their  glorious  cadences,  of  the 
New  England  philosopher.  I admire  both 
these  men,  as  we  admire  the  rugged  pioneer 
who  hews  down  the  forests  and  subdues 
the  soil,  and  with  him  also  the  refined 


horticulturist  who  comes  after  and  con- 
verts that  soil  into  a garden  abounding 
with  every  beauty,  the  fruit  in  its  season 
after  the  gorgeous  flowers. 

If  I am  to  praise  Emerson,  I can  do  it 
no  better  than  by  comparisons  which  he 
has  already  suggested.  In  his  inimitable 
description  of  Plato  he  has  represented  the 
great  philosopher  as  having  collected  and 
included  in  himself  all  the  former  wisdom 
of  the  world  — the  lore  of  Eleatic  and 
Italian,  the  cunning  knowledges  of  the 
priests  and  hierophants  of  Egypt,  and  the 
Cyclopean  Rephaites  of  Idumea  and  Pales- 
tine, the  thaumaturgic  skill  of  ancient 
Babel  and  Shekel  Minar,  and  the  divinest 
inspirations  of  the  Farthest  East.  Plato, 
he  says,  embodied  all  these  in  his  own 
idea,  and  rendered  them  into  a language 
and  form  of  speech  which  Europe  could 
understand  and  receive  as  a wisdom  and 
science  of  its  own.  Since  that  dajT,  all 
who  think  are  more  or  less  the  followers 
of  the  Great  Sage  of  the  Akademe.  This 
is  a description  which  well  fits  Emerson 
himself.  Of  those  who  read  Plato,  few 
understand  him.  The  true  Platonist  reads 
between  the  lines,  and  takes  cognition  of 
the  arcane  sense  which  is  often  purposely 
hidden  from  the  sciolist  and  profane.  Thus 
did  Emerson.  Then,  again  following  the 
great  Master,  he  moved  away  the  rubbish 
which  had  laeen  accumulated  and  gave  us 
our  Platonic  Lessons  in  our  own  language 
and  with  the  surroundings  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century.  Thus  he  made  it  prac- 
ticable for  neophytes  to  learn  of  the  diviner 
Wisdom : aye,  and  for  you  to  establish 
here  in  Concord  — the  place  where  hearts 
are  at  one  — the  School  of  Philosophy,  a 
worthy  reminder  of  the  old  cloister  where 
Socrates  was  represented  as  discoursing 
to  the  young  men  of  Athens. 

I hope  m3'  comparison  is  not  too  ob- 
scure to  be  comprehended,  for  I wish  to 
extend  it  a little  further.  One  of  Plato’s 
interlocutors  compares  the  discourse  to  a 
Dithyramb,  — to  a sacred  chant  with  mys- 


Reminiscences. 


tic  import,  such  as  worshippers  employed 
at  the  Mysteries.  Does  not  Emerson  de- 
serve a like  testimony’?  He  embodied  the 
Old  Wisdom,  — or  Philosophy,  if  we  must 
so  call  it,  — in  a diction  which  tempts 
collectors  to  place  his  works  in  private 
and  public  libraries,  as  belonging  to  the 
imperishable  classics  of  the  English  tongue. 
We  need  not  stumble  over  the  hard-got, 
un-Anglican  books  of  Thomas  Taylor, 
whose  language  often  obscures  what  he 
would  saj-,  now  that  we  have  the  eloquent 
utterances  of  Emerson,  so  easily  procur- 
able and  so  fascinating.  This  work  has 
made  his  name  immortal.  I do  not  ask 


or  care  whether  he  was  “ original.”  I 
have  often  noticed  that  writers  who  were 
realty  the  most  original  were  the  best 
reporters  and  utterers  of  other  persons’ 
inspired  words  — not  imitators,  but  rein- 
carnations. This  Plato  of  America  was 
the  most  original  of  our  authors,  and 
among  the  very  wisest.  It  is  because  he 
uttered  his  lessons  so  well,  and  enforced 
them  by  living  them,  that  we  are  here 
today  at  Concord,  with  hearts  moving  to- 
gether, to  commemorate  him ; I trust  to 
embody  in  ourselves  what  he  so  eloquentty 
wrote,  and  thus  to  do  honor  to  his  name. 


REMINISCENCES. 

MRS.  EDNAH  DOW  CHENEY.1 


TT  seems  to  me  that  those  of  us  who 
heard  what  Mrs.  Howe  said,  must  agree 
that  the  age  owes  a sacred  debt  to  the 
coming  generation  to  preserve  for  it,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  influence  and  the  mem- 
ory of  the  wonderful  life  that  has  been 
lived  among  us.  As  we  look  back  over 
forty  j'ears,  to  the  time  when  I can  remem- 
ber Mr.  Emerson  as  the  strongest,  most 
spiritual,  and  most  intellectual  influence 
of  my  life,  and  know  wdiat  he  rvas  to 
me,  and  what  he  was  to  every  hungry, 
earnest  and  true  heart  which  came  near 
him,  I feel  a sense  of  pity  and  responsi- 
bility to  all  young  people  who  are  grow- 
ing up,  who  cannot  know  him  as  we  knew 

1 Ednah  Dow  Littleliale  was  born  in  Boston,  June  27, 
3824,  and  married  Seth  W.  Cheney,  the  well-known  artist, 
May  39,  1853,  who  died  Sept.  10,  1856.  Her  published 
works  include  “Faithful  to  the  Light,”  “ Sally  Williams,” 
and  “Child  of  the  Tide,” — all  of  which  are  stories  for 
young  people, — also  “Gleanings  in  the  Fields  of  Art” 
(most  of  the  chapters  being  in  substance  lectures  delivered 
at  the  School  of  Philosophy),  “Memoirs  of  Susan  Dimock, 
M.D.,”  a memorial  of  Seth  W.  Cheney,  and  the  article  on 


him  ; who  cannot  hear  that  voice  which  pen- 
etrated so  to  the  very  portals  of  the  soul ; 
who  cannot  look  into  those  eyes,  which 
always  seemed  to  look  into  infinity  and 
eternity.  Though  that  life  has  been  lived 
here  among  us,  in  the  midst  of  us  all,  yet 
there  has  never  been  breathed  upon  it  a 
spot  of  blame.  There  is  no  tarnish  on  it. 

I regret  very  much  that  you  could  not 
have  heard  today  the  eloquent  words  of 
Mr.  James,  such  as  he  used  to  speak  while 
Mr.  Emerson  was  living.  I wish  you  could 
have  heard  what  I suppose  he  would  have 
spoken,  for,  although  not  agreeing  with 
him  in  many  points  of  doctrine,  yet  he 
recognized  Mr.  Emerson  as  a representa- 

Women  of  Boston  in  the  Memorial  History  of  Boston. 
She  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  New  Engl:  n 1 Hos- 
pital  for  Women  and  Children,  and  has  been  secretary  of 
it  for  twenty  years.  For  about  ten  years  she  was  engaged 
on  the  Teachers’  Committee  of  the  New  England  Freed- 
man’s Aid  Society.  She  is  a leading  member  of  the  New 
England  Women’s  Club,  and  is  an  officer  of  the  Free  Re- 
ligious Association,  of  the  Massachusetts  Woman  Suffrage 
Society  and  of  the  School  Suffrage  Association. 


Reminiscences. 


73 


live,  unfallen  man;  a man  inspired  with 
earnestness  and  purity,  tempered  with  wis- 
dom, sanity,  strength  and  manhood.  One 
of  his  most  remarkable  qualities,  that 
quality  of  temperance,  of  moderation  com- 
bined with  enthusiasm  and  power,  was 
one  great  charm  and  power,  which  he 
preserved  always  the  same.  He  was 
ever  the  same  to  us.  Those  who  sat  at 
his  feet  once  really  sat  there  all  their  lives. 
As  the  prophet,  when  he  came  down  from 
the  mountains,  having  been  fed  by  the  birds 
of  God,  lived  in  the  strength  of  that  meat 
forty  days,  so  those  who  had  really  eaten 
of  that  feast  which  he  furnished  us,  could 
live  in  its  strength  all  their  lives.  That 
temperance,  that  common  sense  which 
never  allowed  him  to  be  extravagant,  never 
allowed  him  to  pass  beyond  the  bounds  of 
moderation,  reason  and  sanity,  was  one 
cause  why  we  can  never  fail  to  find  wis- 
dom in  his  words,  and  health  and  strength 
in  his  acts. 

His  bearing  in  the  anti-slavery  cause 
has  been  spoken  of  today.  He  published 
years  ago  a lecture  on  slavery,  in  the 
darkest  hours  of  the  struggle.  He  spoke 
then  from  the  highest  point  of  view  — 
that  of  the  right  of  every  man  to  free- 
dom. Yet  he  said  also:  “I  must  not 
disdain  to  say  to  the  slaveholder  that 
his  cotton  and  his  sugar  will  be  safe 
even  when  the  slave  is  free.”  It  seems  to 
me  this  truth  has  not  been  sufficiently 
recognized  — that  he  did  not  despise  the 
common  things  of  life.  He  did  not  refrain 
from  using  all  those  arguments  which 
would  be  worthy  of  his  cause.  He  came 
down  from  his  high  plane  of  poetry  and 
philosophy  to  use  statistics,  to  use  any 
lawful  argument  by  which  he  might  win  in 
the  great  cause  of  anti-slavery.  And,  al- 
though many  fancied  that  his  life  was  one 
of  mere  thought, — mere  poetry  and  philos- 
ophy,— yet  there  never  has  been  a single 
good  cause  or  a single  battle  that  we  have 
struggled  through  in  these  years,  in  which 
his  voice  has  not  sounded  like  a trumpet, 


while  he  was  in  the  van,  the  bravest  and 
purest  of  leaders,  working  in  liis  own  way, 
but  working  earnestly.  One  of  his  most 
remarkable  addresses  was  at  the  time  when 
Sumner  was  stricken  down  by  the  South- 
ron Brooks.  At  that  time  Mr.  Emerson 
came  to  a meeting  held  in  Boston,  and 
he  spoke  of  the  outrage  in  such  words 
as  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  the  case. 
The  man  who  struck  him  down,  he  said, 
was  only,  as  it  were,  an  accident  of  mere 
brute  force.  The  man  Sumner,  the  patriot, 
would  rise  above  it  all,  — and  he  showed 
how  even  that  brutal  assault  was  an  in- 
cident, and  that  nothing  could  touch  the 
immense  influence  of  Sumner’s  name  or 
destroy  his  power.  Mr.  Emerson  had  even 
forgotten  those  brave  words  when  Sumner 
came  to  die.  But  at  a memorial  Southern 
meeting  the  words  were  brought  forward 
which  Emerson  had  forgotten.  In  South 
Carolina  a colored  man  had  remembered 
them  as  they  were  reported  in  the  news- 
papers of  the  time,  and  he  told  how  they 
had  been  an  inspiration  and  a streugth  to 
him  ever  afterward. 

One  thing  that  has  given  him  such  a 
constant  and  persistent  influence  is  that 
he  did  not  rest  in  dogmas.  It  has  been 
questioned  whether  he  believed  in  imtnor- 
talitj*.  He  did  not  speak  about  it;  he 
lived  in  it.  We  do  not  talk  about  our 
homes,  the  shelter  of  the  mother’s  arms 
and  the  father’s  love  which  has  surrounded 
us  all  our  lives.  We  live  in  them  and 
grow  strong  in  that  love  and  protection. 
So  he  believed  in  immortality  with  his 
heart.  Every  line  and  every  thought  of 
his  writings  presuppose  it,  if  they  do  not 
state  it. 

Mr.  Sanborn  has  handed  me  a short  let- 
ter he  wishes  me  to  read  at  this  point,  and 
it  endorses  what  I have  said.  Miss  Sarah 
E.  Chase  of  Worcester  writes  : 

“ Tlie  last  time  I saw  Emerson  was  in  Rome, 
and  our  last  conversation  was  on  immortality. 
And,  though  I have  listened  to  the  arguments 
of  many  eminent  men  in  the  old  world  and  the 


74  The  Relation  between  Common  Sense  and  Philosophy. 


new  on  this  subject,  beside  reading  all  I could 
Hud  in  ancient  and  modern  literature,  I found 
him  more  convincing  than  all  others.  How 
liis  countenance  glowed,  as  he  triumphantly 
concluded : ‘ I am  so  sure  that  the  hereafter 
will  be  so  much  better  than  the  possibility  of 
imagining  that  the  manner  does  not  occupy  my 
thought,  so  wonderful  is  the  goodness  and 
wisdom  of  the  ordering  of  the  hour.’  ” 

It  was  here,  it  was  now,  it  was  in  this 
life  that,  like  Michael  Angelo,  he  found 
immortality.  So  with  our  acquaintance 
with  his  religious  thought  and  life, — if  we 
could  cherish  those  words  and  read  them 
in  their  depth,  we  should  find  that  we 
could  not  be  beyond  the  faith  and  trust 
which  his  life  so  richly  presents  to  us  all. 

It  was  astonishing,  in  all  these  many 
years,  to  see  how  Emerson  always  had  the 
same  audience  around  him.  The  last  time 
I heard  him  speak  in  public  was  in  the  Old 
South  Church  in  Boston,  wrhen  entertain- 
ments were  given  there  for  the  sake  of  in- 
creasing the  fund  for  its  preservation. 
Old,  gray-headed  men  and  women  were 
there  who  used  to  listen  to  him  in  middle 
age,  whom  I had  not  seen  in  public  for 
years.  But  they  must  come  out  to  hear 
Emerson.  Some  of  them  felt  that  they 
must  hear  him  every  time  they  had  an 


opportunity'.  When  we  were  young  girls, 
nothing  in  our  list  of  entertainments  was 
to  be  compared  with  Emerson, — no  party, 
no  singing,  no  theatre.  To  hear  him  was 
pure  and  perfect  delight.  His  pleasure  in 
young  men  has  been  spoken  of.  His  de- 
light in  persons  was  one  of  his  great  joys. 
He  noticed  young  men  and  women  who  lis- 
tened to  his  lectures,  and  came  to  know 
them  before  he  ever  spoke  to  them.  After 
Mr.  Alcott  started  the  Town  and  Country- 
Club,  I remember  the  eagerness  with  which 
he  would  turn  and  look  at  each  speaker. 
Nothing  was  found  uninteresting  by  him. 
He  found  something  good  in  every  one 
who  spoke.  It  was  that  which  made  him 
so  near  to  all  and  to  each  one.  And  so  to 
every  one  who  has  lived  with  him,  and  to 
those  who  have  known  him  so  intimately', 
it  is  that  which  makes  him  so  infinitely  dear 
and  so  infinitely  precious.  When  Mr.  Al- 
cott’s  poem  was  read,  I thought  of  Goethe’s 
tribute  to  Schiller,  and  he  was  ours.  But 
of  Emerson  we  say  “is,”  not  “was,”  as 
Goethe  does.  It  seems  as  if  he  were 
alway  s in  the  present  and  future.  He  is 
with  us  now,  and  it  is  for  us  who  had  the 
blessing  of  his  presence  and  influence  to 
preserve  them  for  those  who  come  after  us. 


Seventh  Day,  — July  24. 


THE  RELATION  BETWEEN  COMMON  SENSE  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 


BY  I>R. 

rPIIE  aim  and  sum  of  all  human  think- 
ing  and  experience  is  acquaintance 
with  the  contents  of  consciousness  of 
every  sort,  the  characteristics  of  these 
contents,  their  constitution  and  their 
relations  to  one  another  and  to  the 
thinker.  In  the  history  or  process  of 
this  thinking  there  are  three  degrees  or 


JONES. 

stages.  The  first  in  the  order  of  time  of 
these  contents  of  consciousness  is  that 
of  the  sensuous  image,  whether  physical 
or  psychical  or  pneumatical,  in  which  the 
thought  does,  not  distinguish  between  the 
image  and  the  thing  imaged, — mere  sen- 
suous perception.  This  knowing,  more  or 
less  methodized  and  prudently  applied,  is 


The  Relation  between  Common  Sense  and  Philosophy.  75 


called  common  sense,  with  common  sense 
judgment  and  common  sense  understanding 
predicated  of  it. 

The  second  in  the  order  of  time  of  these 
contents  of  consciousness  is  that  of  the 
rational  inference  from  the  image,  the 
stage  pf  inductive  science,  in  which  the 
image  of  sense  is  discredited  as  reality  and 
the  independent  existence  and  character 
and  definition  of  the  object  are  inferred 
rationally  and  experimentally  from  the 
sensible  manifestations.  In  this  attitude 
and  exercise  of  the  thinker,  thought  dis- 
tinguishes between  the  actualit}'  and  the 
phenomenality  of  the  world,  and  actualit}" 
is  postulated  as  ultimate  reality.  These 
forms  of  the  inductive  science  are  the  con- 
ceptions of  the  analytical  understanding. 
They  are  thought-formed  ; they  are  mental 
pictures  reflected  in  the  psychic  seusorium, 
— so-called  ideas, — forms  having  an  actual, 
but  no  essential  consistence.  Here  thought 
distinguishes  between  the  actual  and  the 
phenomenal,  but  not  between  the  actual 
and  the  actor  which  is  the  essential,  the 
ideal.  This  thought  is  the  metaphysics  of 
the  analytical  understanding. 

The  third  stage  in  the  order  of  time  of 
these  contents  of  consciousness  as  the 
ground  of  thought  and  its  cognition  of 
reality,  is  that  of  the  logical  order.  This 
order  of  thought  has  its  point  of  view  in 
the  pneumatic  or  spiritual  corporeality. 
The  pneumatic  reflections  are  images  of 
the  essential,  of  the  substantial,  as  the 
sensible  and  the  scientifical  were  respec- 
tively reflections  of  the  phenomenal  and  of 
the  actual.  Pneuma  is  spirit.  Spirit  is 
pure  substance  and  essence,  and  like  to 
like,  only  spirit  can  cognize  spirit.  The 
pure  thought,  thought  seeing  and  knowing 
in  the  degree  of  spiritual  and  essential 
forms,  thought  cognizing  the  actor  which 
acts  in  the  actual  and  appears  in  the  phe- 
nomenal, is  the  thought  of  the  true,  or  true 
thought,  the  ultimate  knowing  of  the  real, 
of  which  the  sensible  and  scientific  know- 


ing are  but  scenic  and  dramatic,  — mere 
aspects  of  the  true. 

Dr.  Jones  then  took  up  the  first  of  these 
three  stages  of  knowing,  showing  that  in 
it  matter  is  the  onlj’  substance  and  essence 
and  form,  and  hence  the  thought  of  the 
universe,  the  understanding  and  the  beliefs 
must  all  be  materialistic.  But  this  esti- 
mate of  the  world,  of  the  soul  and  of  God, 
cannot  be  the  fountain  of  the  history  of  a 
great  age  of  humanity.  The  stream  cannot 
rise  above  its  fountain.  The  idea  and  first 
principle  of  human  history  must  be  found 
indigenous  in  the  primal  essence  and  form 
of  mind  and  soul.  The  intellect  of  man 
and  the  will  of  man  constitute  the  human 
factor  in  all  history.  The  entity  man  is 
the  one  substance  and  generic  form  of  all 
social  history,  and  this  form  is  immortal 
and  eternal.  Yet  the  identity  of  the  per- 
sonal soul  abideth  forever.  The  move- 
ment of  humanity  in  temporal  measures  is 
history.  Humanity  is  the  permanent  form 
that  moves,  and  the  processes,  the  actual- 
ities of  this  motion,  are  the  variable,  the 
different,  the  transient.  We  have  no 
record  of  an  age  and  no  rational  concep- 
tion of  an  age  when  man  wras  not  conscious 
of  the  world  and  of  self  and  of  God,  and 
did  not  think  and  construct  sciences  of 
the  world  and  of  the  soul  and  of  God.  In 
the  clear  light  of  truth  one  need  not  dive 
to  the  bottom  to  see  that  mankind  in  the 
different  and  remote  ages  are  more  akin 
than  the  novice  can  believe,  the  likeness 
extending  even  to  its  philosophic  specula- 
tions. For  if  the  discovery  aud  identifica- 
tion of  the  Father  and  Creator  of  all  be  a 
necessity  and  lawr  of  all  truly  logical  proc- 
ess and  philosophic  conclusion,  then  the 
theistic  ideas  of  the  race  in  each  and  any 
generation  constitute  at  least  an  approxi- 
mate test  of  the  value  of  their  speculations. 
A people  ignorant  and  uninstructed  were 
never  known  or  supposed  to  have  instructed 
the  world.  On  the  other  hand,  a people 
whose  language  and  literature  and  arts 


Gnosticism  and  Jtfeo-Platonism. 


76 

have  p:\ssecl  into  the  life  of  the  then  world, 
and  into  all  subsequent  ages  and  coun- 
tries, must  themselves  have  been  once  the 
centre  and  power  of  the  world. 

Each  and  every  great  age,  or  historic 
cycle  of  humanity,  has  its  spring  and  rise 
in  a divine  faith,  and  every  faith  divine  has 
its  root  in  the  incarnation  and  oracles  of 
divinity  ; and  without  this  quickening  the 
earth  yieldeth  not  her  treasures,  nor  is 
human  society  founded  and  constituted. 
This  splendid  and  magnificent  glory,  this 
stupendous  scene  of  human  society,  with 
all  its  sciences  and  arts,  rural,  mechani- 
cal and  liberal,  this  incomprehensible  and 
amazing  concentration  of  all  that  is  most 
perfect  in  art,  adapted  in  surpassing  ex- 
cellence and  unrivalled  richness  and  splen- 
dor to  the  most  powerful  influences  upon 
the  manners,  the  tastes,  the  thoughts,  the 
character  of  hundreds  of  millions  of  souls, 
daily  and  hourly  moving  in  its  order  and 
beauty  and  use,  is  not  previded  nor  pro- 
vided nor  constituted  without  a divinity 
and  a controlling  divine  providence,  and 
this  a divinity  not  hidden,  unmanifest, 
undeclared  and  unconscious  in  the  race, 
but  divinity  declared  and  manifest  through 
incarnation  and  oracle  and  inspiration  of 
the  spirit.  The  identification  of  deity  as 
the  all-creating,  all-containing,  all-sustain- 
ing and  all-controlling,  is  the  first  principle 


of  philosophy  and  the  crucial  test  of  all 
philosophic  systems  of  thought.  Hereof, 
moreover,  philosophy  is  arraigned  to  an- 
swer, not  what  think  we  of  some  abstract 
principle,  formulated  in  the  speculative 
ratiocinations  of  intellect ; but  what  think 
we  of  the  concrete,  the  manifest,  the  de- 
clared divinity,  “ in  whom  dwelleth  all  the 
fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily  ?’’  In  recog- 
nition of  this  declaration  must  a Christian 
philosophy  find  its  first  principle  and  chief 
corner-stone.  Christian  philosophy  will 
comprehend  all  philosophy,  because  it 
recognizes  God  as  the  prime  factor  in  all 
history  ; it  will  recognize  man  as  immu- 
table, eternal  and  self-identical  form ; it 
will  establish  the  fraternity  of  man  in  all 
ages.  The  idea  of  the  progress  of  the 
race  is  that  of  its  unity  of  eternal  same 
in  the  form  with  perpetual  change  in  the 
transient  conditions.  In  all  his  becomings 
man  becomes  not  something  else  than 
what  he  is. 

The  latter  portion  of  the  lecture  was 
devoted  to  a consideration  of  the  attain- 
ments of  India  in  philosophy  and  civiliza- 
tion, in  which  she  held  the  highest  place. 
Dr.  Jones  dwrnlt  upon  the  essential  simi- 
larityr  of  thought  in  these  very  ancient 
times  with  modern  thought  in  its  contem- 
plation of  the  highest  truth. 


GNOSTICISM  AND  NEO-PLATONISM. 

BY  DR.  HARRIS. 


rpHE  study  of  the  history  of  the  first 
centuries  of  Christianity  is  of  very 
great  interest,  because  it  shows  to  us  the 
struggle  of  a new  principle  supplanting  the 
old,  and  leading  in  a new  civilization.  What 
was  its  character,  and  what  the  character 
of  the  old  that  passed  awa}’,  we  may  Well 
inquire  if  we  would  understand  the  heri- 


tage wre  have  come  into  possession  of,  and 
learn  rightly  to  prize  it.  How  did  our 
Christian  principle  look  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago,  and  in  what  respects  did  it  find 
other  principles  hostile  to  it,  and  through 
what  stages  of  error  did  it  pass  on  the  way 
to  a correct  definition  of  itself  ? In  these 
days  of  free  investigation  and  the  desire 


Gnosticism  and  Neo-Platonism. 


77 


for  intellectual  clearness  in  matters  of 
religion,  when  there  is  a tendency  to 
leave  the  authority  of  the  church  and  find 
another  author^  based  on  the  mediated 
certainty  of  science,  or  experience,  or  pure 
reason,  we  may  find  many  people  glad  to 
consider  with  us  the  history  of  the  begin- 
nings of  that  system  of  thought  long  since 
grown  into  the  structure  that  we  call  our 
civilization.  If  we  discover  confirmation 
of  our  inherited  convictions,  we  shall  be 
stronger,  and  have  two  authorities  where 
we  had  one  before.  If  our  study  leaves 
us  in  doubt,  still  it  is  a doubt  founded  on 
an  honest  study  of  history,  and  we  sup- 
plant a dogma  by  a truth. 

Dr.  Harris  said  that  the  view  which 
seems  to  explain  the  philosophic  systems 
and  the  theological  reactions  of  those  early 
ages,  is  the  one  which  makes  a broad  dis- 
tinction between  Orientalism  and  Chris- 
tianity, and  defines  the  Christian  system  to 
be  that  which  asserts  the  divinity  of  the 
nature  of  mau,  or  the  possibility  for  each 
individual  of  becoming  divine  by  putting  off 
his  animal  nature  and  assuming  an  ethical 
and  religions  nature.  According  to  this 
view,  the  Oriental  religions  do  not  find 
God  to  be  divine-human,  but  conceive  him 
to  transcend  utterly  all  human  attributes 
so  as  to  be  not  absolute  reason,  but  above 
reason  ; not  to  be  good,  but  above  the  good. 
In  short,  the  Oriental  absolute  transcends 
all  form  and  all  quality,  and  is  indifferent 
to  human  attributes  and  to  all  other  at- 
tributes. “This  is  certainly  not  the  view  of 
a large  and  respectable  company  of  read- 
ers and  admirers  of  Oriental  literature, 
but  it  is  the  view  of  the  only  thinkers  that 
1 am  able  to  follow  in  this  matter.”  Chris- 
tianity seems  to  furnish  the  only  view  that 
we  as  moderns  can  accept,  because  it  is 
the  oidy  view  that  justifies  our  civilization 
and  holds  up  over  it  an  ideal  and  that  points 
out  for  us  a goal  toward  which  we  may 
advance  indefinitely  and  never  surpass. 
It  gives  us  a principle  by  which  we  may 
criticise  ourselves,  and  our  institutions, 


and  even  the  church  itself,  as  being  but  a 
poor  realization  after  all  of  the  ideal  very 
plainly  set  up  in  the  Christian  doctrine. 
It  represents  to  us  ourselves  and  the  world 
as  proceeding  from  an  infinite  reason  who 
reveals  himself  in  and  through  the  world 
and  through  us,  and  is  essentially  a re- 
vealed God  and  not  an  abstract  One 
who  cannot  be  revealed  without  destroying 
his  perfection.  Sextus,  the  Pythagorean, 
said  : “ Do  not  investigate  the  name  of 
God,  because  you  will  not  find  it.  For 
everything  which  is  called  by  a name  re- 
ceives its  appellation  from  one  who  is 
more  worthy  than  itself,  as  it  is  one  per- 
son that  calls  and  another  that  hears. 
Who  is  it,  therefore,  t hat  has  given  a name 
to  God?  God,  however,  is  not  a name  to 
God,  but  an  indication  of  what  we  con- 
ceive of  him.”  In  the  same  style  we  are 
told  that  to  think  is  to  limit,  and  to  think 
God  is  to  limit,  and  thus  to  think  him 
incorrectly. 

Thus  Philo  of  Alexandria,  perhaps  the 
original  mover  of  the  schools  of  thought 
called  Gnosticism  and  Neo-Platonism,  held 
that  there  must  be  a higher  principle  than 
the  Creator  — a God  who  is  unrevealable 
and  above  that  God  who  can  reveal  himself 
as  Demiourgos  or  Logos  in  a creation. 
A revealed  God  was  necessarily  a finite 
being  to  such  thinkers  as  Philo  and  Plu- 
tarch of  Cheromea.  The  church  has  de- 
clared heretical  this  principle  whenever  it 
has  appeared.  It  is  clear  that  this  doc- 
trine was  most  dangerous  in  the  earliest 
times  — those  of  the  apostles.  The  gos- 
pel of  Juhn  may  have  been  written  to 
oppose  the  doctrine  that  had  been  urged 
by  some  followers  of  Philo. 

Gnosis  meant  the  allegorical  interpreta- 
tion of  any  Scripture.  It  might  be  a more 
profound  knowledge  of  Christian  truth, 
and  it  is  spoken  of  in  Corinthians  (I.,  xii., 
8)  in  this  sense.  Gnosticism  did  not 
begin  as  a heresy.  But  it  became  such. 
There  was  in  the  new  doctrine  the  theory 
of  sin  and  evil,  the  falling  away  or  lapse 


Gnosticism  and  Neo- Platonism . 


73 


of  the  finite  from  the  infinite.  How  did 
the  finite  come  to  exist,  or  bow  did  the 
All-Perfect  make  the  imperfect?  How 
could  there  be  any  redemption  for  fallen 
beings?  This  question  forced  itself  on 
the  intellect.  The  Greek  philosophy,  as 
Plato  and  Aiistotle  had  left  it,  had  found 
a theory  of  the  creation  of  a world  by  an 
all-good  being  who  “ was  in  no  wise  pos- 
sessed of  envy.”  But  it  had  no  theory  of 
sin  as  sin.  After  Alexander  had  con- 
quered the  world,  Greece  had  come  into 
contact  with  Orientalism  in  Egypt,  Syria, 
Mesopotamia,  the  states  of  Asia  Minor, 
and  elsewhere.  What  can  be  done,  said 
the  Greek  sages,  to  interpret  those  Oriental 
views  and  explain  them  by  Greek  theories? 
The  attempt  to  solve  this  problem  of 
creation  gives  rise  to  Gnosticism,  and 
next  to  Neo-Platonism. 

The  most  famous  of  the  Gnostics  were 
born  in  Alexandria,  or  in  Syria,  Pontus 
or  Mesopotamia,  and  went  to  Rome.  Val- 
entinus, Marcion,  Basilides,  Bardesanes, 
Saturninus,  Cerinthus,  are  the  most  fa- 
mous names  out  of  a great  number. 
These  hold  that  matter  is  antagonistic 
to  God  and  a limit  to  the  power  that  made 
it.  Hence  God  did  not  make  it.  God  is 
indeterminate,  and  hence  possesses  no 
attributes  through  which  reason  may'  com- 
prehend him.  Creation  is,  therefore,  the 
work  of  a Demimirgns.  These  are  the  very 
doctrines  of  Philo  and  will  reappear  among 
the  Neo-Platonists.  Some  Gnostics  held 
the  curious  theory  that  the  Demiourgos  was 
opposed  to  the  highest  principle,  and  was  a 
power  that  had  created  and  ruled  this 
world  as  its  prince,  but  now  should  give 
way  before  the  new  dispensation  brought 
by  Christ,  who  came  as  a divine  messen- 
ger to  end  the  rule  of  the  prince  of  this 
world.  All  agreed  that  Christ  assumed 
a human  nature  as  a merely  deceptive 
appearance.  Thus  there  were  some  who 
tried  to  make  the  distinction  between 
Christianity  and  preceding  religions  as 


wide  as  possible,  while  others  tried  to 
remove  this  distinction. 

The  lecturer  next  discussed  the  details 
of  the  system  of  Valentinus,  and  offered 
an  explanation  of  the  system  of  iEons, 
and  of  the  fall  of  the  last  iEon,  Sophia, 
or  Wisdom,  and  her  sufferings  and  redemp- 
tion. The  rise  of  spiritual  pride  through 
the  intellect  was  suggested  as  the  root  of 
the  theory,  and  as  identical  with  the  doc- 
trine of  Lucifer’s  fall.  Intellect  must  be 
free  in  order  to  see  truth  ; but  its  indepen- 
dence begets  pride,  and  hence  sin.  Error 
is  one  thing  and  sin  another.  Error  is  a 
small  affair.  But  sin  is  selfishness,  the 
setting  up  of  a duality  in  the  universe,  the 
sundering  of  the  self  from  harmony  with 
the  all,  and  hence  .the  creation  of  hell  and 
the  entrance  of  it  by?  the  one  who  sets  up 
self  as  his  object.  The  doctrines  of  rea- 
son, truth,  depth,  silence  (the  four  root 
iEons)  and  of  Logos  and  life  descended 
from  reason  and  truth,  and  of  man  and 
church  descended  from  Logos  and  life, 
these  other  iEons  were  described  and 
identified  with  Aristotelian  categories  and 
Persian  religious  principles. 

Then  the  lecturer  took  up  the  doctrines 
of  the  Neo-Platonists  as  a continuation  of 
the  same  species  of  speculation  in  the 
arena  of  pure  philosophy?.  The  systems 
of  Plotinus,  Jamblichus,  Proclus,  and 
Ammonias  Saccas  were  treated.  Plotinus 
held  that  the  absolute  is  one  elevated 
above  reason,  but  he  still  accepted  Plato’s 
appellation  of  “ the  good  ” for  the  one. 
Jamblichus  was  not  satisfied  with  this 
identification  of  the  good  with  the  one 
above  reason,  but  insisted  that  the  abso- 
lute was  a unity  above  the  good.  Pro- 
clus went  a step  further,  and  affirmed 
a supreme  essence  above  the  unity. 
The  wonderful  insights  into  mind  which 
Plotinus  and  Proclus  gained  from  their 
profound  study  of  Aristotle  and  Plato 
were  mentioned  and  discussed,  while  the 
error  which  made  the  division  of  subject 


The  Relations  between  Science  and  Philosophy. 


79 


and  object  in  consciousness  a necessaiy 
connection  with  finiteness  and  imperfec- 
tion was  pointed  out  and  refuted.  Sub- 
ject and  object  become  one  in  self-con- 
sciousness, and  consciousness  is  not  de- 
stroyed. Aristotle  claims  for  reason 
{Nous)  just  this  character  as  what  makes 


it  absolute.  In  it  thinking  and  thought 
are  the  same,  and  hence  it  is  its  own  other, 
and  has  the  form  of  infinitude.  Much 
service  was  claimed  for  Neo-Platonism  in 
reaching  the  true  conception  and  definition 
of  personality. 


Eighth  Day,  — July  25. 


THE  RELATIONS  BETWEEN  SCIENCE  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 


BY  DR.  JONES. 

“ Sure,  he  that  made  us  with  such  large  discourse, 
Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 
That  capability  and  godlike  reason 
To  fust  in  us  unused.” 


HETHER  we  look  before  or  after, 
into  the  ages  past  or  the  ages  to 
come,  man  is  self- identical,  “made  of 
such  large  discourse”  and  “ godlike  rea- 
son” and  capability,  invariable  in  form, 
in  type,  because  formed  after  the  image 
and  likeness  of  the  Creator.  Hence,  also, 
it  obtains  universal  belief  of  all  the  great 
aces  that  divinitv  is  manifested  in  form  of 
man,  and  gods,  and  heroes,  and  arch- 
angels, and  angels,  and  spirits  are  but 
purer  men.  Accordingly  the  better  we 
know  purer  and  the  purest  and  noblest 
men  and  women,  the  better  ma}'  we  know 
the  angelic  and  the  divine  orders.  Man 
in  his  senses  merely  is  in  the  immediacy 
of  the  image  only,  and  is  not  in  a true 
knowledge  of  anything,  physiological, 
metaphysical,  or  spiritual. 

But  the  soul  moves  ; the  experimental 
test  convicts  the  witness  of  sense  of  inva- 
lidity. Science  dawns,  and  belief  must 
recti fj7  its  knowledge.  Science  is  physi- 
cal, metaphysical  and  theological.  Reason 


— Shakespeare. 

is  thought  pioneering,  the  thinker  pioneer- 
ing and  exploring  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  sense. and  sense-knowing.  Pneuma  is 
the  thinker ; only  spirit  thinks.  In  the 
processes  of  the  analytical  understanding, 
the  whole  world  of  image  is  “ maya.” 
It  is  a camera  whose  images  are  void  and 
a reversal  of  the  truth.  Scientifical  know- 
ing is  inferential,  inductive.  The  object 
is  a thought-form,  and  this  thought-form 
is  constituted  of  the  rational  inferences 
from  the  observed  characteristics  of  the 
image  in  the  sensorium.  These  inferred 
matters  are  transferred  to  the  subject,  and 
imposed  upon  it  as  its  own  characteristics 
and  qualities  and  definitions.  This  proc- 
ess of  scientifical  thinking  and  reasoning 
is  applied  alike  to  the  contents  of  all  the 
sensoria,  and  hence  arise  physical  sci- 
ence, metaplysical  science  and  theistic 
science. 

Dr.  Jones  discussed  the  inferential  proc- 
esses of  the  mind  in  scientific  knowing, 
saying  that  in  them  the  mind  makes 


8o 


The  Relations  between  Science  and  Philosophy. 


acquaintance  with  its  own  forms,  and  occu- 
pies the  middle  ground  between  the  sensi- 
ble and  thelogieal  cognition.  Of  the  ma- 
terial of  this  induction  is  constituted  all 
so-called  science,  or  the  physics,  meta- 
physics  and  theology  of  the  understand- 
ing. These  inducted  forms  are  ranked  as 
ultimate  ideas  and  principles,  and  an- 
nounced to  be  the  absolute  nature,  the 
reality  of  things.  Because  these  cogni- 
tions are  not  grounded  in  and  comprehen- 
sive of  the  essential  form  of  knowable 
subject,  therefore,  abstract  and  scientifical 
ratiocination  has  this  indeterminate  char- 
acter, that  anything  whatever  may  be 
proven  of  anything  whatever  by  reason- 
ing. 

But  the  noumenon  of  inductive  science, 
the  “ thing  in  itself”  of  inductive  science, 
its  rational  object,  is  confessedly  the 
unknown  and  the  unknowable.  Inductive 
science  essays  only  the  distinction  be- 
tween this  unknown  and  unknowable 
somewhat,  and  the  phenomenon  in  which 
it  occurs  to  sense.  The  human  mind 
within  the  range  of  its  inventive  and  con- 
structive powers,  affects  not  to  know 
absolutely  the  essence,  the  cause,  the 
source,  the  reality  of  either  the  outer 
nature,  or  the  soul,  or  the  deity.  These 
natures  in  their  truth  are  the  despair  of 
inductive  science. 

But  whence  come  we  ? Whither  go  we  ? 
The  question  dies  away  without  an 
answer,  without  even  an  echo  from  the 
infinite  shores  of  the  unknown.  Let  us 
follow  matter  to  its  utmost  bounds.  Cast- 
ing the  term  “ vital  force  ” from  the  vo- 
cabulary, let  us  reduce,  if  we  can,  the  visi- 
ble phenomena  of  life,  to  mechanical  attrac- 
tions aud  repulsions.  Having  thus  ex- 
hausted physics  and  reached  the  very  rim, 
the  real  mystery  still  looms  before  us.  We 
have  made  no  step  towards  its  solution. 
To  mind,  in  the  world  of  nature,  there  are 
three  gates  to  the  sanctum  sanctorum. 
They  are  sensation,  induction  and  logical 
dialectic,  and  these  are  the  ways  and 


processes  respectively  of  intellect  in  the 
results  of  common  sense,  and  science  and 
philosophy ; and  the  mystic  problem  of 
vital  force  is  the  pons  asinorum  of  induc- 
tive science.  Inductive  science  fails  to 
effect  the  rational  and  logical  connection 
between  the  molecular  motions  and  a gore- 
gations  of  insensate  atoms  and  plasms  of 
whatever  sort,  — and  the  facts  of  sensa- 
tion, feeling,  consciousness. 

Hitherto,  thought  has  arrived  by  a legiti- 
mate and  royal  highway,  but  at  this 
station  it  must  change  cars.  Philosophi- 
cal knowing,  as  knowledge  of  truth,  of 
knowable  nature,  is  discretely  differen- 
tiated from  the  thought  of  inductive 
science  (1)  in  that  the  relation  of  the 
knower  and  the  subject  is  logical,  (2)  in 
that  the  method  of  the  knower  is  logical. 
In  the  logical  relation,  the  life-form,  the 
spiritual  form,  not  seeable  in  sensible 
light,  nor  divinable  by  rational  inference, 
is  immediate  and  immanent  in  the  cog- 
nition of  the  pneuma , Ihe  spirit.  Here 
spirit  feels,  secs,  experiences  and  knows 
spirit  in  the  relation  of  an  immediacy, 
face  to  face.  Hence,  knowing  spirit  as 
in  and  of  itself,  life-form  and  essence,  it 
is  cognitive  of  vital  force  in  its  fountain 
in  the  energy  of  spirit.  And  from  this 
view-point  alone  does  the  thinker  think 
through,  see  through  phenomenon  and 
nonmenon,  as  mere  existence  and  mani- 
festation of  the  one  spirit,  — and  this  is 
dialectic. 

Pneuma  is  spirit.  Only  pneuma  feels, 
thinks  and  moves.  Whatsoever  is  felt  by 
means  of  sensation  to  be  and  to  exist, 
thought  speculates  and  experiments  in  or- 
der to  know  and  to  use.  In  order  of  time 
thought  begins  with  the  image  or  phenom- 
enon, but  in  logical  method,  thought 
begins  with  the  essential  and  vital  form. 
Only  spirit  thinks,  and  spirit  thinks  sen- 
suously, and  scientifically,  and  logically. 
Sensational  thinking  is  spirit  seeing  the 
phenomenal  aspect  of  the  world.  Scien- 
tifical thinking  is  spirit  seeing  the  actual 


Oracular  Poetry  among  the  Hebrews,  Greeks  and  Persians.  81 


aspect  of  the  world,  and  logical  thinking 
is  spirit  seeing  spirit,  spirit  cognizing  the 
actor,  of  which  the  former,  the  actual,  and 
the  apparitional  are  predicates.  Logical 
relation  a*nd  process  are  the  relation  and 
process  of  the  Logos  or  Maker.  The  logi- 
cal view-point  of  the  system  of  the  universe 
is  the  relation  of  the  maker  to  what  is 
made,  and  the  logical  method  is  the 
method  of  the  creator  and  maker  in  what 
is  created  and  made.  To  discover  and 
follow  this  method,  as  spirit  seeing  spirit, 
in  the  relation  and  process  of  producer 
and  produced,  of  creator  and  created,  is 
the  only  logical  thinking. 

Logic  is  the  relation  and  method  of  the 
Logos.  “ The  Liogos  was  in  the  beginning 
and  the  Logos  was  with  God  and  the  Logos 
was  God.  All  things  were  made  by  him 
and  without  him  was  not  anything  made 
that  was  made.”  Again:  Whence  and 
what  is  vital  force  ? Of  what  do  you  predi- 
cate it?  “ In  him  [in  the  Logos ] was  life , 
and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men,”  — the 
true  light  which  lighteth  every  man  that 
cometh  into  the  world.  In  all  philosophi- 


cal knowing  the  mind  begins  with  the  logi- 
cal order,  or  the  order  of  the  Logos. 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  lecture  Dr. 
Jones  dwelt  upon  the  truth  that  the  Logos 
does  not  exist  alone  in  unapproachable 
light,  but  “was  made  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  us.”  He  also  gave  considerable 
time  to  Indian  philosophy  and  literature, 
showing  that  the  great  minds  of  the  world 
have  always  thought  upon  these  lofty 
truths  of  God,  and  that  as  far  back  as  we 
have  any  knowledge  men  were  as  culti- 
vated and  intelligent,  and  as  familiar 
with  the  great  problems  of  philosophy  as 
they  are  today.  He  asserted  that  instead 
of  man’s  being  developed  from  lower  crea- 
tures, the  best  and  most  ancient  history 
proves  exactly  the  reverse,  and  that 
savages  are  the  “fag-end,”  not  the  begin- 
ning of  civilization.  He  read  from  Indian 
writings,  four  thousand  years  old,  to  show 
that  belief  in  immortality  was  as  strong- 
then  as  now,  that  love  of  nature  was  as 
keen  and  appreciative,  and  tliat  the  poetry 
upon  nature  was  as  good  as  any  modern 
writing. 


ORACULAR  POETRY  AMONG  THE  HEBREWS,  GREEKS  AND 

PERSIANS. 

BY  MR.  SANBORN. 


"A/TR.  SANBORN  began  by  defining 
poetry,  in  the  words  of  an  old  Per- 
sian saying,  ascribed  to  Zoroaster  (whose 
name  signifies  “ best  of  poets”),  in  which 
poets  are  called  “standing  transporters 
whose  employment  consists  in  producing 
apparent  imitations  of  unapparent  na- 
tures,”— or  as  Mr.  Sanborn  said  in  other 
words,  “Poetry  is  the  alternate  inscrip- 
tion and  deciphering  of  symbolism  on  the 
visible  universe,  by  means  of  that  crea- 
tive and  piercing  imagination,  in  virtue  of 


which  (next  to  love)  man  stands  nearest 
to  his  Maker.”  This  symbolism,  again,  is 
what  Emerson  meant  when  he  wrote  to 
Mr.  Albee,  in  1852.  as  quoted  at  the 
Emerson  Commemoration:  “There  is  a 
super-Cadmean  alphabet,  which,  when  one 
has  learned  the  character,  he  will  find,  as 
it  were,  secretly  inscribed,  look  where  he 
will,  — not  only  in  books  and  temples,  but 
in  all  waste  places,  and  in  the  dust  of  the 
earth.  Happy  he  that  can  read  it ! for  he 
will  never  be  lonely  or  thoughtless  again. 


82  Oracular  Poetry  among  the  Hebrews,  Greeks  and  Persians. 


And  yet,  there  is  a solid  pleasure  to  find 
those  who  know  and  like  the  same  thing, — 
the  authors  who  have  recorded  their  inter- 
pretation of  the  legend;  and,  better  far, 
the  living  friends  who  read  as  we  do,  and 
compare  notes  with  us.”  Emerson’s  poem 
called  “ Berrying”  was  read,  in  which  he 
hints  at  this  same  secret  language  of  na- 
ture : — 

“ Caught  among  the  blackberry-vines, 
Feeding  on  the  Ethiop  sweet, 

Pleasant  fancies  overtook  me, 

I said,  ‘ What  influence  me  preferred, 

Elect,  to  dreams  thus  beautiful?’ 

The  vines  replied,  ‘And  didst  thou  deem 
No  wisdom  to  our  berries  went?  ’ ” 

In  this  poem,  of  course,  said  the  lec- 
turer, Mr.  Emerson  was  thinking  of  this 
secret  of  the  world,  uttered  in  the  arrowy 
writing  of  the  blackberry- thorn. 

Passing  on  to  the  Greek  oracles  (whose 
divine  ambiguity  has  so  impressed  the 
common  mind  that  the  word  “ oracular  ” 
has  “ ambiguous”  for  its  secondary  mean- 
ing), the  lecturer  cited  several  examples 
from  Herodotus,  and  quoted  from  Plu- 
tarch’s essay,  “ Why  the  Oracles  Cease  to 
Give  Answers,”  the  quaint  story  told  by 
the  Spartan  Cleombrotus  in  a small  school 
of  philosophy  at  Delphi,  A.D.  100  or  there- 
about, how  the  gods  of  Greece  began  to 
die  when,  in  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  Christ 
appeared.  Thus  it  runs  in  Plutarch’s 
version : — 

“ Epitherses  was  my  townsman  and  a school- 
master. who  told  me  that,  designing  a voyage 
from  the  Peloponnesus  to  Italy,  he  embarked 
on  a vessel  well  laden  with  goods  and  passen- 
gers. At  evening  the  vessel  was  becalmed 
about  the  islands  Echinades,  whereupon  they 
drove  with  the  tide  till  near  the  Isles  of  Paxi; 
when  all  at  once  a voice  was  heard  by  most  of 
the  passengers,  who  were  then  awake  and  tak- 
ing a cup  after  supper,  calling  unto  one  Tha- 
mus,  and  that  with  so  loud  a voice  as  made  all 
the  company  amazed ; which  Thamus  was  a 
mariner  of  Egypt,  whose  name  was  scarcely 
known  in  the  ship.  He  returned  no  answer  to 


the  first  calls ; but  at  the  third  he  cried, 
‘ Here,  here,  I am  the  man.’  Then  the  voice 
said  aloud  to  him,  1 When  you  are  arrived  at 
Palodes,  take  care  to  make  it  known  that  the 
great  god  Pan  is  dead.”  Epitherses  told  us 
this  voice  did  much  astonish  all  that  heard  it, 
and  caused  much  arguing  whether  this  voice 
was  to  be  obeyed  or  slighted.  Thamus,  for 
his  part,  was  resolved,  if  the  wind  permitted, 
to  sail  by  the  place  without  saying  a word : 
but  if  the  wind  ceased  and  there  ensued  a calm, 
to  speak  and  cry  out  as  loud  as  he  was  able 
what  he  was  enjoined.  Being  come  to  Palodes 
there  was  no  wind  stirring,  and  the  sea  was  as 
smooth  as  glass.  Whereupon  Thamus,  stand- 
ing on  the  deck  with  his  face  toward  the  land, 
uttered  with  aloud  voice  this  message,  saying, 
‘ The  great  Pan  is  dead.’  He  had  no  sooner 
said  this  than  they  heard  a dreadful  noise,  not 
only  of  one  but  of  several,  who  to  their  think- 
ing groaned  and  lamented  with  a kind  of  as- 
tonishment. And  there  being  many  persons  in 
the  ship,  an  account  of  this  was  soon  spread 
over  Rome,  which  made  the  Emperor  Tiberius 
send  for  Thamus. 

After  further  citations  from  Plutarch,  the 
lecturer  passed  on  to  Hesiod  and  quoted 
the  verses  cited  by  Socrates  in  Xenophon’s 
Memorabilia  about  the  broad  road  and  the 
strait  gate,  as  seen  by  the  Boeotian  poet, 
who  was  proverbially  oracular,  and  taught 
the  Greeks  as  Franklin  taught  America  : — 

“ Easy  the  choice  of  Evil,  — her  abode, 

With  all  her  train,  is  near,  and  smooth  the 
sloping  road; 

But  sweat  and  toil  the  gods  exact,  before 

We  traverse  the  long  lane  that  climbs  to  Vir- 
tue’s door; 

Rugged  and  steep  at  first,  but  when  with  pain 

The  summit  we  ascend,  ’tis  all  at  once  a 
plain.” 

From  the  Pythagorean  comedian,  Epi- 
charmus  of  Sicily,  Socrates  also  quoted  a 
like  sentiment  in  iambic  verse  : — 

“We  can  buy 

All  things  for  labor  of  the  gods  on  high.” 

Mr.  Sanborn  went  on  to  say:  “The 
sweet  lyric  poet,  Simonides,  who  carried 
to  its  highest  point  the  beauty  and  melody 


Oracular  Poetry  among  the  Hebrews , Greeks  and  Persians.  83 


of  Greek  verse,  had  little  that  was  oracu- 
lar in  his  poetry,  unless  it  be  the  tone 
of  pathetic  moralizing,  which  we  might 
expect  in  a land  where  the  oracles  were 
uttered  bt^  a woman,  as  were  those  of  Del- 
phi. In  these  elegiac  verses,  Simonides, 
taking  for  his  text  the  famous  line  of 
Homer, 

“ Like  leaves  on  trees,  the  race  of  man  is  found,” 
thus  preaches  his  metrical  sermon  : — 

“ No  mortal  lot  stands  firm  and  fast  for  aye ; 

Most  beautiful  that  Chian  poet’s  sigh,  — 

‘ The  life  of  man  is  as  the  life  of  leaves  ; ’ 

Rare  among  men  is  he  that  treasures  well 

Those  weighty  words  which  his  dull  ear 
receives ; 

For  in  the  hearts  of  all  fair  hope  doth  dwell, 

And  evermore  our  breasts  exultant  swell ; 

And  while  our  hands  hold  fast  Life’s  prim- 
rose flower, 

The  rash  soul  broods  not  on  the  fatal  hour. 

Man  thinketh  not  to  grow  old  or  to  die, 

Nor  feeleth  coming  woe  when  death  is  nigh. 

Blind  — blind  are  they  whose  souls  are  thus 
elate ! 

Brief  is  the  time  assigned  to  Life  by  fate; 

These  know  it  not,  but  ye  who  know  this 
thing, 

May  Zeus  your  souls  to  Life’s  short  limit 
bring ! ” 

Mr.  Sanborn  then  read  several  of  the 
Hebrew  psalms,  as  translated  by  Sir 
Philip  Sidney  long  before  King  James’s 
version  of  the  Bible  was  made.  Several 
of  these  were  not  oracular,  though  solemn 
and  stately,  but  as  a sample  of  Hebrew 
poetry  truly  oracular  in  thought,  he  read 
Psalm  139,  in  the  common  version,  and 
then  Sidney’s  metrical  translation  as 
follows  : — 

“ O Lord,  in  me  there  lieth  naught 

But  to  thy  search  revealed  lies  ; 

For  when  I sit 
Thou  markest  it, — - 


Nor  less  thou  notest  when  I rise; 

Yea,  closest  closet  of  my  thought 
Hath  open  windows  to  thine  eyes. 

Thou  walkest  with  me  when  I walk  ; 

When  to  my  bed  for  rest  I go, 

I find  thee  there 
And  everywhere,  — - 

Not  youngest  thought  in  me  doth  grow,  — - 
No,  not  one  word  I cast  to  talk 
But,  yet  unuttered,  thou  dost  know. 

If  foi’th  I march,  thou  goest  before  ; 

If  back  I turn,  thou  com’st  behind  ; 

So  forth  nor  back 
Thy  guard  I lack ; 

Nay,  on  me  too  thy  hand  I find. 

Well  I thy  wisdom  may  adore, 

But  never  reach  with  earthly  mind. 

To  shun  thy  notice,  leave  thine  eye, 

Oh,  whither  might  I take  my  way? 

To  starry  sphere? 

Thy  throne  is  there ; 

To  dead'men’s  undelightsome  stay  ? 

There  is  thy  walk,  and  there  to  lie 
Unknown,  in  vain  should  I assay. 

O sun  ! whom  light  nor  flight  can  match  ! 
Suppose  thy  lightful,  flightful  wings 
. Thou  lend  to  me, 

And  I could  flee 

As  far  as  thee  the  evening  brings  ; 

Even  led  to  west  he  would  me  catch. 

Nor  should  I lurk  with  western  things. 

Do  thou  thy  best,  0 secret  night ! 

In  sable  veil  to  cover  me ; 

Thy  sable  veil 
Shall  vainly  fail ; 

With  day  unmasked  my  night  shall  be ; 

For  night  is  day,  and  darkness  light, 

0 Father  of  all  lights,  to  thee ! ” 

In  conclusion  Mr.  Sanborn  read  the 
song  of  Seid  Nimetollak  of  Kukistan, 
translated  by  Emerson  from  the  Persian, 
and  the  dying  words  of  James  Nayler,  the 
English  Quaker  of  Cromwell’s  time  ; and 
then  directed  the  conversation  to  the  sub- 
ject of  Pythagoras  and  the  Neo-Platon ists 
of  Alexandria. 


84  Rhilosoyrfiy  in  its  Relation  to  Agnosticism  and  Religion. 


Ninth  Day,  — July  26. 

PHILOSOPHY  IN  ITS  RELATION  TO  AGNOSTICISM  AND 

RELIGION. 

BY  THE  REV.  ROBERT  AFTON  HOLLAND.1 


TAELIGION  and  philosophy  both  tend 
to  agnosticism.  Thought,  and  not 
feeling,  must  be  the  foundation  on  which 
religion  rests  ; for  otherwise,  as  feelings 
differ  in  intensity  only,  fanaticism  would 
be  the  only  religion.  A religion  which 
abandons  reason  must  have  a reason  for 
not  reasoning.  If  it  yields  to  authority, 
it  is  because  it  has  reason  to  believe  tint 
its  reason  is  better  than  its  own.  Mr.  Hol- 
land related  the  old  fable  of  the  race 
between  the  hare  and  hedgehog,  and 
said  it  was  a fable  showing  faith  in  its  at- 
tempt to  outrun  reason.  The  requirement 
that  religion  become  philosophic,  and  that 
philosophy  become  religious,  together  with 
the  wide,  extent  of  radical  questioning,  are 
the  most  hopeful  indications  of  the  times. 
The  doubt  which  is  so  frequently  expressed 
in  philosophy,  religion  and  common  life, 
must  have  some  reason  in  the  mind  of  man, 
and  the  radical  reach  of  the  doubt  gauges 
the  importance  of  the  faith  it  anticipates. 
Only  by  thought  can  the  mind  know 
whether  what  seems  to  be  knowledge  is 
true  or  false. 

All  ages  have  in  their  thought  assumed 
the  absolute.  Individual  thinkers  may 
have  puzzled  themselves  about  it,  but  pop- 
ular thought  has  not.  The  mind  must 
have  an  absolute  standard.  Knowledge 
must  be  absolute  in  order  to  know  that 
special  objects  are  but  parts  of  a great 

1 The  Rev.  Robert  Afton  Holland  is  a native  of  Nashville, 
Tetin.  He  lived  in  Louisville  during  his  youth ; married 
the  daughter  of  a wealthy  Georgia  planter,  and  lived  in 
Georgia  till  the  outbreak  of  the  civil  war.  Then  he  came 
northward  and  was  subsequently  settled  over  St.  George’s 
Episcopal  Church  in  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  where  he  succeeded 
in  building  up  a strong  congregation  and  in  erecting  one 


whole  and  are  related  to  each  other.  The 
antinomies  of  all  special  objects  of  knowl- 
edge are  but  failures  of  the  part  to  include 
the  whole.  To  deny  one  God  is  to  assert 
many.  Can  space,  a part,  account  for 
time,  which  is  also  a part?  Can  either 
account  for  causation  ? They  cannot  stand 
the  test  of  absoluteness.  Make  space  ab- 
solute and  it  changes  into  time.  Make 
time  absolute  and  it  changes  into  eternity. 
Make  causation  absolute  and  it  must  cause 
itself,  and  so  be  its  own  effect.  Thought 
is  the  absolute,  the  all.  Absolute  form 
must  contain  reality.  That  is  absolute 
form  which  entains  within  itself  all  real- 
ity', that  is,  God.  To  know  that  the  infi- 
nite is,  implies  knowledge  of  infinite  being, 
and  this  means  infinite  personality, or  God. 

Nature  is  not  inherent  being.  It  is  al- 
ways in  change.  Toward  unity  all  things 
aspire.  God  cannot  know  himself  correct- 
ly7 unless  the  self-known  is  in  every7  respect 
the  same  as  that  which  knows.  Hence  the 
complete  form  of  consciousness  is  not  sub- 
ject, but  subject-object.  The  absolute  is 
tri-personal.  God  appears  in  personality, 
— the  knowing  is  Father,  the  known  is 
Son,  and  the  recognition  is  the  Holy  Ghost. 
In  religion,  philosophy  and  religion  meet. 
Knowledge  is  relative  as  related  to  an  ab- 
solute beyond  its  reach,  and  in  this  sense 
is  relative  only  because  imperfect.  The 
most  perfect  knowledge  must  be  the  knowl- 

of  the  finest  of  the  local  church  edifices.  He  is  now  rector 
of  Trinity  Church,  Chicago,  and  member  of  the  Chicago 
Philosophical  Club.  He  is  author  of  many  articles  on  the 
philosophy  of  religion  and  kindred  subjects,  one  of  which 
is  an  article  on  the  “Real  Presence”  in  the  “Journal  of 
Speculative  Philosophy  ” for  January,  1882. 


Christian  Mysticism. 


edge  of  relation.  But  this  knowledge  can- 
not be  called  relative  in  the  sense  of  im- 
perfect, because  it  does  not  know  the 
unrelated.  It  is  the  test  of  reason  that  it 
cannot  think  what  contradicts  its  nature. 
The  unthinkable  is  the  absurd,  not  the 
absolute. 

Mr.  Holland  then  spoke  of  the  absurd- 
ity of  the  popular  proofs  of  the  existence 
of  God.  Symbols  reveal,  but  do  not  define 
God.  The3'  have  a place  in  worship,  but 
not  in  argument.  The  argument  from  de- 
sign to  prove  the  existence  of  God  is  held 
to  prove  an  all-wise  designer.  Nature  is 
regarded  as  the  stufif  which  God  has  taken 
and  turned  to  good  account.  But  who 
created  nature  so?  God,  of  course.  Then 
the  proof  of  his  wisdom  from  design  proves 
simply  that  his  wisdom  consists  in  repairing 
the  blunder  of  his  first  creation.  The  argu- 
ment from  design  proves  God  to  be  all-wise 
only  by  proving  him  to  be  all-foolish.  All 
finite  representations  of  God  as  cause 
bring  him  into  the  categories  of  physical 
science,  and  that  science  is  true  when  it 
says  that  nature  has  no  place  for  such  a 
God.  He  belongs  to  a higher  category. 


He  is  absolute  mind.  He  is  not  first  cause, 
because  he  is  also  last  effect,  the  effect  of 
his  own  causing.  Only  as  essential  reason 
can  he  be  rationally  demonstrated.  The 
demonstration  of  God  is  not  from  finite 
nature,  but  from  deduction. 

There  is  another  method  of  demonstra- 
tion, and  the  church  followed  it  with  halt- 
ing steps  in  the  Middle  Ages.  It  is  the 
method  of  philosophy  which  the  post-Kant- 
ian  thinkers  have  followed  to  the  end.  It 
shows  that  things  have  no  substantial  being 
of  their  own,  that  they  are  parts  of  a whole 
in  an  organic  unity,  and  this  unity  must 
be  self-determining,  and,  therefore,  infinite 
reason.  Hence,  all  natural  appearances 
are  revelations  of  infinite  reason.  Reason 
culminates  in  Christianity,  which  compre- 
hends all  religious  symbols  in  its  own  per- 
fect symbol.  It  identifies  the  divine  writh  * 
the  human  mind  in  Christ.  After  this  is 
popularly  demonstrated,  doubt  will  give 
way  to  a faith  better  than  any  yet  seen,  a 
faith  which  shall  be  knowledge,  and  shall 
bring  heaven  to  earth,  whose  silence  shall 
seem  harmony,  and  whose  songs  shall  seem 
audible  echoes  of  the  voice  of  God. 


CHRISTIAN 

BY  DB. 

“I  AR.  HARRIS  began  by  saying  that  in 
his  last  lecture  he  endeavored  to 
show  the  relation  of  Gnosticism  to  Neo- 
Platonism  ; that  they  had  essentially  the 
same  solution  for  the  problem  of  the  ori- 
gin of  finite  existence  and  imperfection. 
Gnosticism  tried  to  make  a solution  which 
would  agree  with  Christianity,  while  Neo- 
Platonism  sought  to  make  a sufficient  ex- 
planation of  the  existence  of  dependent, 
imperfect  beings  on  the  basis  of  Platonic 
philosophy  without  reference  to  Chris- 
tianit}’.  Both  systems  agree  in  adopting 


MYSTICISM. 

HARRIS. 

Philo’s  doctrine  of  a God  exalted  above 
virtue  and  above  knowledge,  and  even 
above  good  and  evil,  while  Plato  identified 
him  with  the  good.  From  God  as  One 
there  emanates,  according  to  Gnosticism 
and  Neo-Platonism,  Nous  as  its  image,  and 
then  the  soul  as  the  image  of  the  Nous , 
and  then  body  or  the  material  world,  from 
soul  as  the  soul’s  creation. 

The  systems  agree  in  these  four  great 
cardinal  thoughts,  but  disagree  only  in  the 
intercalation  of  intermediate  steps  and  in 
naming  them.  Gnosticism  likes  to  use  the 


S 6 Christian 

word  “iEon  ” where  Platonism  likes  the 
word  *•  Idea,”  meaning  thereby  a complete 
cycle  or  process,  like,  for  example,  animal 
or  vegetative  life,  or  like  the  political  state, 
or  the  social  community  of  productive  in- 
dustry and  exchange  of  productions.  The 
state,  as  we  might  say,  is  organized  on  the 
idea  of  justice,  and  has  an  organism  for 
discovering  and  defining  laws  that  limit 
the  individual  to  doing  only  what  will  con- 
serve society  ; this  is  called  the  legislative 
power  ; then  it  has  another  organism,  the 
executive,  for  apprehending  persons  who 
break  these  laws  and  for  otherwise  adminis- 
tering the  laws  ; lastly  there  is  the  judicial, 
which  examines  the  question  of  the  correct 
application  of  the  general  law  to  the  indi- 
vidual case.  These  three  organisms  make 
up  the  TEon  of  justice — its  complete  cycle 
or  process. 

There  may  he  many  ideas  or  vEons 
placed  between  the  Nous  and  the  soul  — 
there  are  twenty-eight  in  the  sj'stem  of  Val- 
entinus, and  in  Proclus  there  are  many 
unities  issuing  from  the  primal  essence, 
all  exalted  above  life  and  reason  and 
the  power  of  comprehension  ; then  there 
are  many  triads  corresponding  to  ./Eons 
between  reason  and  matter.  Marcion  of 
Pontus  has  no  iEons,  but  retains  the 
Demiourgos,  or  soul,  that  makes  the  world 
and  who  is  opposed  to  the  most  high  and 
his  Christ.  Altogether,  therefore,  we  must 
conceive  Neo-Platonism  essentially  the 
same  world-theory  as  Gnosticism,  both 
being  emanation-theories  having  the  prin- 
ciple of  lapse  as  the  principle  of  method, 
and  not  the  principle  of  self-determination, 
which  is  the  true  principle  of  method. 
The  principle  of  lapse  finds  only  a de- 
scending scale  while  the  principle  of  self- 
determination  shows  us  an  ascending  scale, 
and  is  the  only  principle  in  theology  that 
can  furnish  a ground  for  the  world  as  a 
revelation  of  reason,  or  for  the  perfection 
of  man. 

In  the  later  forms  of  Neo-Platonism 
there  is  a return  toward  the  pure  doctrines 


Mysticism. 

I of  Aristotle  and  Plato.  The  pupils  of 
Plutarch  of  Athens  seem  to  have  learned 
from  him  that  Aristotle  agreed  with  Plato 
in  his  view  of  the  world.  Syrianus  and 
Ilierocles  of  Alexandria,  the  former  the 
teacher  of  Proclus,  both  recognize  this 
truth,  and  Hieroeles  tells  us  that  even  Am- 
monias Saccas  proved  this  substantial 
agreement,  while  Hegel  in  modern  times 
thinks  that  the  name  for  the  whole  move- 
ment ought  to  be  New  Aristotelianism 
instead  of  Neo-Platonism.  Proclus,  how- 
ever, in  his  great  work  on  the  theology 
of  Plato,  treating  chiefly  of  the  dialogue 
“Parmenides,”  has  undertaken  to  show 
that  Plato  himself  holds  the  doctrine  of  a 
primal  essence  above  reason,  in  several  of 
his  works.  Proclus  lived  a century  and  a 
half  after  Christianity  had  become  the 
state  religion.  Ilis  works  exercised  a great 
effect  on  Christian  mysticism  through  the 
so-called  “Dionysius  the  Areopagite’s  ” 
writings,  which  must  have  been  written 
after  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century,  and 
for  the  purpose  of  introducing  the  philos- 
ophy of  the  Neo-Platonists  into  the  service 
of  Christian  theology.  There  was  a certain 
authority  given  to  the  work  of  Dionysius 
on  account  of  the  respect  paid  it  by  popes 
of  the  early  church.  Scotus  Erigena  trans- 
lated the  work  for  Charles  the  Bald  in  843 
A.  D.  Long  afterward  the  work  was 
discovered  to  be  spurious  and  not  written 
by  the  Dionysius  mentioned  in  Acts  (xvii.) 
and  supposed  to  be  the  first  bishop  of 
Athens. 

Scotus  Erigena  developed  his  doctrine 
of  four  natures  or  orders  of  being  : (1)  that 
which  creates,  but  is  not  created  ; (2)  that 
which  is  created  and  creates  ; (3)  that  which 
is  created  and  does  not  create  ; (4)  neither 
created  nor  creates.  The  last  is  God  as 
the  end  of  all  things,  and  is  identical  with 
the  supreme  essence  of  Proclus.  God’s 
essence  is  unknown  and  unknowable  for 
men,  and  even  for  angels.  Yet  his  being 
can  be  seen  in  all  things,  his  wisdom  ap- 
pearing in  orderly  classification,  and  his 


Christian  Mysticism. 


87 


life  in  the  constant  succession  of  events  in 
the  world.  Here  is  a mingling  of  Neo- 
Platonism  and  Christianity,  a revealing  of 
what  is  non-revealable. 

He  says  further  that  the  highest  cannot 
be  expressed  bjT  a name,  but  that  God 
may’  be  called  symbolically,  goodness, 
truth,  light,  justice,  sun,  star,  water,  lion, 
etc.  The  fourth  nature  is  really  above 
truth  and  above  any  expression  whatever. 
But  the  first  nature  creates  eternal  arche- 
types of  things,  and  these  are  in  the  Divine 
Logos , the  unbegotten  son, and,  under  the 
influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  create  the 
world  of  nature.  The  materiality  of  the 
world,  he  holds,  is  merely  apparent,  but 
not  real.  “Our  life,”  says  he,  “ is  God’s 
life.”  Men  and  angels  know  of  God  by 
the  same  revelation  that  he  makes  in  them 
of  himself.  And  yet  Dionysius  makes  the 
first  and  fourth  nature  to  be  one.  All  things 
created  return  to  the  uncreated  and  repose 
eternally  in  God. 

Athanasius  holds  the  Logos  to  be  part  of 
the  original  essence,  and  not  secondary, 
and  this  is  the  doctrine  of  the  gospel  of 
John.  Dioitysius  wavers  between  Lhe  or- 
thodox doctrine  and  Neo-Platonism,  and 
therefore  it  happens  that  his  work  was  re- 
ceived as  sound  philosophy,  and  exercised 
a powerful  influence  on  the  contemplative 
minds  of  the  church.  Hugo  and  Richard 
of  St.  Victor  seem  to  have  profited  by 
his  work.  The  faculty  of  mystical  con- 
templation was  regarded  by  them  as  the 
highest. 

John  Fidanza,  called  “Bonaventura”  by 
St.  Francis,  was  one  of  the  greatest  of 
mj'stics.  He  died  the  same  year  with 
Thomas  Aquinas.  His  doctrine  is  based 
largely  on  that  of  Dionysius,  and  modi- 
fied by  the  influence  of  Bernard  of  Clair- 
vaux,  the  St.  Victors,  and  St.  Augustine. 
The  influence  of  the  last  appears  in  his 
opposition  to  Aristotle  for  making  the 
world  eternal,  and  for  denying  existence  to 
Platonic  ideas,  and  for  setting  up  doc- 
trines regarding  civil  society,  the  state, 


and  ethics  that  do  not  agree  with  the  Fran- 
ciscan code  of  poverty  and  obedience, 
interpreting  the  same  to  justify  mendi- 
cancy for  industiy,  celibacy  for  marriage, 
and  responsibility  to  the  church  instead  of 
the  state.  Bonaventura’s  three  stages  of 
imitation  of  Jesus  make  eternal  blessed- 
ness to  consist  in  contemplation  and 
divine  illumination,  while  mere  obedience 
to  law  and  participation  in  gospel  coun- 
sels remain  respectively  to  the  devotee 
of  the  first  and  second  stages.  Science 
leads  to  understanding  of  what  is  received 
through  faith.  The  world  is  created,  says 
he,  by  God,  not  to  increase  his  glory,  but 
to  reveal  and  communicate  it,  and  in  re- 
ceiving this  revelation  the  highest  well- 
being of  his  creatures  consists.  Thus 
God’s  glory  is  the  good  of  his  creatures, 
and  everything  proceeds  from  the  love  of 
God,  since  he  makes  all  things  tend  toward 
himself.  In  all  creatures  there  is  an  tin- 
conscious  revelatiou  of  God,  but  human 
reason  is  the  only  image  of  God.  God  is 
highest  light  and  supreme  goodness,  and 
imparts  himself  to  all  created  beings,  but 
the  perfect  revelation  takes  place  only  to 
rational  beings  who  can  understand  it,  and 
hence  all  lower  beings  exist  for  man.  He 
understands  the  principle  of  evil  to  be 
selfishness,  just  as  Gnosticism  made  the 
self-seeking  of  the  soul  to  be  that  which 
produced  matter.  Self-love  must  be  subor- 
dinate to  love  of  God,  and  its  highest  form 
is  found  in  charity,  which  looks  toward  the 
divine  ideal  of  man. 

Meister  Eckhart  seems  to  have  attended 
the  lectures  of  Albertus  Magnus  at  Paris, 
and  possibly  may  have  known  Thomas 
Aquinas.  He  was  a Dominican,  too.  His 
significance  as  philosopher  is  found  in  his 
bold  attitude  against  ecclesiastical  and 
dialectical  elements,  preferring  symbolical 
statements  of  speculative  doctrines  based 
on  a mystical  treatment  of  the  dogmas  of 
the  church.  He  desired  “ to  find  a short 
and  true  road  to  God.”  But  while  Bona- 
ventura  was  canonized  as  a saint,  Meister 


88 


Dr.  Hickoh's  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  -Agnosticism. 


Eckhart’s  doctrines  were  condemned  as 
heretical.  All  mysticism  undertakes  to 
express  itself  by  symbols,  and  all  symbol- 
ism lias  the  fundamental  defect  that  it  con- 
fuses the  general  and  particular,  or  the 
species  and  the  individual,  and  thus  ren- 
ders its  expressions  regarding  man  liable 
to  be  seized  in  a sense  that  denies  the  at- 

V 

tainment  of  divine  life  lyy  the  individual 
person.  Eckhart  is  influenced  by  Diony- 
sius, and  distinguishes  the  fourth  nature 
uncreated  and  uncreating  from  the  Creator, 
as  a divine  essence  distinguished  from 
God.  The  former  works,  the  latter  does 
not,  and  is  incomprehensible  even  to  him- 
self, inexpressible  and  not  to  be  revealed. 
But  this  abstract  Godhead  is  the  begin- 
ning and  end  of  all  things,  for  they  are 
completed  in  it  and  come  to  repose  in 


absolute  perfection.  This  abstraction  is 
only  an  abstraction,  for  in  the  Trinity, 
Eckhart  tells  us,  God  is  a living  light- that 
reveals  himself.  The  world  was  original- 
13'  in  the  Father  as  uncreated  simplicity, 
but  on  emerging  from  God  it  took  on  mul- 
tiplicity. God’s  goodness  caused  him  to 
create.  In  creation,  God  has  external- 
ized his  inmost  essence.  All  things  strive 
after  likeness  to  him  as  their  good.  God 
communicates  himself  to  all  things  accord- 
ing to  their  capacity  to  receive  them. 
All  things  were  created  for  the  soul.  In 
Christ  all  creatures  are  one  man,  — and 
this  man  is  God. 

The  rest  of  the  lecture  was  taken  up 
with  further  illustration  and  criticism  of 
Eckhart.  He  was  stated  to  be  the  prime 
mover  in  what  became  Protestantism. 


Tenth  Day,  — July  27. 

DR.  HICKOK’S  PHILOSOPHY  AS  BEARING  ON  AGNOSTICISM. 

BY  PROFESSOR  CHARLES  EDWARD  GARMAN.1 


LIAHE  discussion  of  Agnosticism  is  rele- 
gated  by  Dr.  Hickok  to  the  depart- 
ment of  empirical  psychology.  “ Science 
or  nescience”  is  a question  of  fact,  to  be 

'Charles  Edward  Garman  was  born  in  Limington,  Me., 
December  18,  1850.  He  graduated  from  Amherst  college 
in  1872.  For  several  years  he  taught  the  Ware  (Mass.) 
high  school  and  then  studied  for  three  years  in  the  Yale 
theological  seminary,  graduating  in  1879.  Taking  the 
Hooker  fellowship,  with  its  provision  for  two  years  of 
study  at  Yale  or  abroad,  he  remained  another  year  at 
Yale,  engaged  in  the  study  of  philosophy,  devoting  much 
of  the  time  to  Herbert  Spencer.  The  second  year  of  the 
fellowship  was  resigned  in  order  to  accept  a position  on 
the  Amherst  college  faculty.  At  the  meeting  of  the  trus- 
tees at  Commencement,  1882,  he  was  made  associate  pro- 
fessor with  President  Seelye  in  the  department  of  mental 
and  moral  philosophy.  This  lecture  is  printed  entire  and 
has  the  approval  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hickok. 

Laurens  Perseus  Hickok,  D.  D.,  L L.  D.,  a part  of 
whose  philosophy  is  the  subject  of  Professor  Garman’s 
lecture,  was  born  at  Bethel,  Ct.,  Dec.  29,  1798.  Ho 
graduated  from  Union  college  in  1820,  became  pastor  of 
the  congregational  church  in  Kent,  Ct.,  in  1824;  pastor  at 
Litchfield,  Ct.,  in  1829;  professor  of  theology  in  Western 


answered,  not  by  speculation  based  upon 
certain  hypotheses,  but  by  a strictly  em- 
pirical investigation  of  the  knowing  fac- 
ulty. With  the  hope  of  presenting  his 

Reserve  college  in  1836;  in  Auburn  theological  seminary 
in  1844;  professor  of  mental  and  moral  philosophy  and 
vice-president  at  Union  college  in  1852;  president  of  Union 
college 'in  1866.  Since  1868  he  has  lived  in  Amherst,  Mass., 
devoting  himself  to  his  favorite  study  of  philosophy.  His 
published  works  on  philosophy  are  “ Rational  Psychology  ” 
(1848),  “System  of  Moral  Science”  (1853),  “Empirical 
Psychology”  (1854),  “Creator  and  Creation”  (1872), 
“Humanity  Immortal”  (1872),  and  “Logic  of  Reason” 
besides  the  new  edition  of  his  work  on  “Empirical 
Psychology,”  which  is  the  subject  of  the  present  lecture. 
He  has  also  been  a prolific  contributor  to  periodicals,  in- 
cluding the  “Presbyterian  Quarterly,”  the  “Bibliotheca 
Bacra,”  the  “Christian  Spectator”  and  the  “Biblical  Re- 
pository.” His  system  of  philosophy  is  taught  at  Amherst 
and  other  colleges  in  the  regular  study  of  philosophy  in 
senior  year.  The  treatise  which  is  the  subject  of  Professor 
Garman’s  lecture  must  not  be  regarded  as  devoted  mainly 
to  the  discussion  of  agnosticism,  for  that  topic  is  quite 
subordinate. 


Dr.  HickoMis  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticism.  89 


views  in  such  a form  as  to  commend  them 
to  modern  scientific  thought,  he  has 
recently  revised  his  work  on  psychology 
with  the  co-operation  of  President  Seel}Te 
of  Amherst  College.  The  former  edition 
was  a clear  and  exhaustive  presentation 
of  the  subject  from  the  standpoint  of 
common  consciousness,  but  at  present  it 
fails  in  two  respects  to  appeal  strongly  to 
scientists.  In  the  first  place,  since  its  pub- 
lication, twenty-eight  years  ago,  an  epoch 
has  been  produced  by  the  appearance  of 
the  works  of  Darwin,  Spencer  and  others. 
The  result  is  that  the  authority  of  common 
consciousness  is  no  longer  admitted,  and 
instead,  material  evolution  is  made  the 
nnv  a 1(0  in  all  discussions  of  life  and 
mind.  This  leaves  the  physicist  of  today 
little  in  common  writh  metaphysicians. 
He  deals  only  with  material  phenomena  — 
things  of  sense  — and  receiveth  not  the 
things  of  the  spirit,  for  they  are  foolish- 
ness unto  him  ; neither  can  he  know  them, 
because  thej”  are  spiritually  discerned. 

Secondly,  its  philosophical  form  is  the 
occasion  of  much  misunderstanding.  It 
is  a well-known  fact  in  the  physical  world, 
that  eyes  well  adapted  for  seeing  in  one 
medium  are  nearly  blind  in  another  of  very 
different  refractive  power.  Thus  it  seems 
to  be  in  the  world  of  thought.  They  who 
are  accustomed  to  the  methods  of  physical 
science  can  make  little  sense  out  of  the 
simplest  statements  that  have  a philo- 
sophic form. 

The  aim  of  this  revision  is  to  meet  both 
these  difficulties  ; (1)  to  face  squarely  all 
issues  raised  by  the  hypothesis  of  evolu- 
tion, and  determine  what  changes,  if  any, 
it  majr  logically  demand  in  the  treatment 
of  this  subject;  and  (2)  to  present  psy- 
chology strictl}’  on  a scientific  basis,  sub- 
jecting all  conclusions  to  the  test  of  rigid 
scientific  experiment ; in  short,  to  incar- 
nate psychology  in  the  scientific  form,  and 
thus  to  meet  the  materialist  on  his  own 
ground. 

It  is  impossible  in  this  brief  space  to 


give  any  adequate  idea  of  the  success  with 
which  this  is  accomplished.  A review, 
however  carefully  prepared,  must  necessa- 
rily bear  the  same  relation  to  the  living 
words  of  the  author  that  a photograph 
does  to  a landscape  ; i.  e.,  represent  in  two 
dimensions  what  really  exists  in  three. 
Fortunately,  psychology  is  such  a subject 
that  by  determined  effort  the  reader  may 
use  his  own  inner  consciousness  as  a 
“stereoscopic  glass”  to  restore  the  lost 
dimension,  and  this  we  must  beg  him  to 
do  in  the  present  instance. 

I.  Our  author  considers,  firstly,  the  bear- 
ing of  evolution  on  the  study  of  psychology . 
This  hypothesis  maintains  that  mind  and 
all  its  faculties  have  been  evolved  from  the 
simplest  forms  of  life,  therefore  the  expo- 
sition of  physical  life  will  be  the  solution 
of  all  mental  problems  ; that  mental  facul- 
ties, like  physical  organs,  are  to  be  con- 
sidered simply  as  products  of  the  environ- 
ment, appearing  first  as  peculiarities  of 
accidental  variation  in  individuals,  trans- 
mitted by  heredit}'.  and  made  universal  by 
survival  of  the  fittest.  Had  the  environ- 
ment been  otherwise,  the  laws  of  thought 
must  have  been  different.  Should  the 
environment  essentially  change  in  the 
future,  the  laws  of  thought  may  be  com- 
pletely reversed.  Hence  the  conclusions, 
(1)  the  relativity  of  all  knowledge  (ag- 
nosticism) ; (2)  only  in  the  sphere  of 
experience  and  strict  scientific  investiga- 
tion can  knowledge  possess  even  relative 
validity  ; (3)  pure  metaphysics,  absolute 
morality,  and  revealed  religion  are  noth- 
ing better  than  dreams  of  an  idle  brain. 

To  this  position  our  author  replies  in 
substance  as  follows  : — 

However  dreamy  metaphysics,  morality 
and  religion  may  be  assumed  to  be, 
empirical  psychology  is  as  much  a ques- 
tion of  fact  as  physiology.  However  man 
originated,  one  thing  is  sure,  he  is,  and 
empirical  psychology  simply  asks  and 
answers  the  question,  what  is  he?  not 
what  ivas  man,  nor  wdiat  may  he  become, 


90  Dr.  IlicloFs  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticism. 


but  what  is  man  ? It  seeks  to  attain  the 
faculties  with  which  man  is  at  present 
endowed  and  the  laws  of  their  operation. 
In  answering  this  question  two  methods 
may  be  pursued:  (1)  we  may  attempt  an 
a priori  psychology  ; i.  e.,  assuming  evolu- 
tion, we  may  take  our  stand  in  thought  at 
the  beginning  of  the  process,  and  from  the 
nature  of  the  agencies  at  work  affirm  what 
must  be  their  product ; or  (2)  we  may 
build  up  an  empirical  psychology;  i.  e., 
beginning  at  the  completion  of  the  process, 
by  a careful  study  of  the  existing  man, 
testing  and  re-testing  his  mental  powers, 
we  may  determine  what,  as  a simple  mat- 
ter of  fact,  are  his  endowments.  Clearly 
this  last  is  the  only  scientific  method,  — - the 
only  safeguard  against  mistakes.  A psy- 
chology established  by  this  method  comes 
to  us  not  as  an  hypothesis,  craving  our 
favor,  but  as  true  science  demanding  uni- 
versal assent.  Hence  our  author  con- 
cludes that  the  view  we  take  of  evolution 
can,  according  to  the  scientific  method, 
make  as  little  difference  with  our  empirical 
psjmhology  as  wdth  our  mineralogy,  our 
chemistry,  or  our  geography.  If  it  can 
be  proved  by  strict  scientific  experiments, 
made  on  the  existing  man,  that  he  does 
possess  trustworthy  mental  powers,  the 
discovery  that  these  have  been  evolved 
cannot  change  them  any  more  than  the 
discovery  that  a diamond  has  been  crys- 
tallized from  carbon  can  diminish  its  brill- 
iancy. A diamond  is  a diamond  for  a’ 
that,  and  a man  is  a man  for  a’  that. 

Evolution  is  a subject  of  greatest  inter- 
est ; if  proved,  it  will  elevate  our  ideas  of 
matter,  as  being  only  a lower  form  of 
mind  ; but  it  can  never  degrade  our  ideas 
of  mind,  provided  these  ideas  rest  on  a 
scientific  basis.  In  the  words  of  Professor 
Huxley  : “ Legitimate  materialism  .... 
is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a sort  of 
shorthand  idealism.”  Again,  so  far  as  the 
materialist  rests  his  belief  in  relativity  on 
the  theory  of  evolution,  he  is  false  to  the  sci- 
entific spirit ; he  assumes  that  only  untrust- 


worthy mental  powers  can  be  evolved  ; but 
this  is  the  very  question  at  issue, — a ques- 
tion that  only  such  an  investigation  as  shall 
result  in  a complete  empirical  psychology 
can  answer.  But  more  than  this  : in  mak- 
ing such  assumption  the  materialist  is 
especially  unfortunate;  for  what  is  the 
hypothesis  of  evolution  itself,  but  a men- 
tal product,  — a discovery  made  by  the 
very  faculties  that  it  is  claimed  have  been 
evolved?  If  these  are  untrustworthy,  it  is 
difficult  to  see  how  evolution  can  have 
any  more  real  foundation  than  pure  meta- 
physics, absolute  morality,  and  revealed 
religion.  When  the  materialist  makes  evo- 
lution his  aoc  crr6>  in  maintaining  relativ- 
ity of  knowledge,  he  is  simply  tugging 
away  at  his  own  boot-straps.  Such  a 
system  of  philosophizing  may  seem  pro- 
found,, for  it  is  indeed  bottomless. 

This  suggests  the  relation  of  empirical 
psychology  to  all  science,  physical  as  well 
as  metaphysical.  Science1  is  the  product 
of  mind  and  can  have  no  more  trustworthi- 
ness than  belongs  to  the  agent  that  forms 
it.  Hence  we  can  be  sure  of  nothing,  not 
even  of  our  own  skepticism,  till  we  know 
the  laws  of  mind  and  their  trustworthi- 
ness. As  well  might  the  astronomer 
attempt  a science  of  the  stars,  knowing 
nothing  of  the  laws  of  optics  and  the  ac- 
curacy of  his  telescope.  Therefore  at  the 
basis  of  all  science,  as  well  as  of  all 
philosophy,  stands  empirical  psychology. 
This  is  the  only  starting-point  in  all  dis- 
cussions. 

II.  Outline  of  Psychology.  To  expe- 
rience is  to  make  trial  of,  to  use.  A 
scientific  experiment  is  a re-trial,  carefully 
made  and  the  results  accurately  noted. 
Such  results  are  undoubted  Jacts  — the 
data  of  science.  Completed  science  in- 
volves the  classification  of  such  fads. 
Hence  the  general  method  of  all  science  : 

(1)  the  attainment  of  the  facts  exactly; 

(2)  the  assortment  of  the  facts  in  classes 

correctly ; (3)  the  arrangement  of  the 

classes  in  a system,  consistently.  Apply- 


Dr.  UiclcoJSs  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticsim. 


91 


ing  this  method  to  psychology,  we  seek 
the  faculties  of  the  mind  and  the  laws  of 
their  operation,  as  revealed  in  the  facts 
of  a conscious  experience.  The  author 
begins  with  evidence  for  existence  of 
mind.  Mind  for  the  present  is  defined 
as  the  agent  that  makes  and  takes  note  of 
a scientific  experiment.  Whether  it  dif- 
fers in  kind  or  degree  from  other  agencies 
in  nature  will  be  a question  for  future  in- 
vestigation, but  of  the  existence  of  this 
agent  there  can  be  no  doubt ; “ wherever 
in  any  and  ever)'  age  the  works  of  man  or 
of  nature  have  been  subjected  to  rigid 
scientific  investigation,  there  mind  has 
evinced  its  presence  and  power.”  Re- 
specting mind  the  following  general  facts 
are  attained:  (1)  its  motive  to  investi- 
gations is  from  within,  a desire  to  satisfy 
its  own  curiosity;  i.  e.,  the  mind  is  con- 
sciously self-active , a spontaneous  agent ; 
(2)  the  mind  distinguishes  between  itself 
and  its  objects,  i.  e.,  is  self-conscious ; (3) 
it  can  and  does  make  its  own  acts  the 
object  of  its  investigations,  thereby  at- 
taining a valid  empirical  psychology,  such 
investigation  being  more  satisfactory,  be- 
cause more  immediate,  than  experiments 
on  external  nature ; (4)  careful  experi- 
ment demonstrates  that  no  mental  action 
ever  takes  place,  save  as  some  condition 
has  first  been  given  ; and  that  the  inva- 
riable order  of  mental  activity  is  sensa- 
tion, content-in-consciousness,  knowing, 
feeling,  willing.  These  acts  constitute 
the  whole  psychological  process. 

Sensation  is  the  effect  in  a living  organ 
of  an  outer  invading  agency  ; it  is  wholly 
without  consciousness,  but  conditional  for 
the  mind  to  awake  to  activity.  The  wak- 
ing state  is  the  dawn  of  consciousness, 
but  as  yet  subject  and  object,  knowing 
and  known,  are  all  together,  utterly  indis- 
criminate and  commingled.  The  capabil- 
ity of  mind  for  knowing  is  the  intellect. 
It  includes  three  faculties,  — sense,  un- 
derstanding, reason.  These  are  not  three 
separate  organs  of  mind,  but  the  one  mind 


endowed  with  three  capacities  of  action. 
Sense  is  the  faculty  of  perception.  As 
the  unfocused  light  in  a camera  is  that 
out  of  which  proper  adjustments  construct 
definite  images,  so  content-in-consciousness 
is  that  out  of  which  the  sense,  by  a three- 
fold act  of  attention  — defining,  distin- 
guishing, connecting  — constructs  all  the 
concrete  objects  of  experience. 

The  action  of  the  understanding  is  two- 
fold : (1)  as  memory  it  recalls  the  objects 
of  sense,  but  in  inverse  order,  those  that 
occurred  first  in  time,  standing  farthest 
from  us  as  we  recall  them  in  orderly  suc- 
cession, as  if  memory  were  a mirror  re- 
flecting the  past ; (2)  as  reflective  thought , 
it  subjects  the  objects  of  sense,  given 
through  memory,  to  further  investigation, 
making  these  its  data  for  comparison  and 
classifications.  This  involves  the  power 
of  abstraction,  of  separating  in  thought 
what  cannot  be  separated  in  sense-per- 
ception. All  objects  of  sense  are  numeri- 
cally distinct  and  local.  Their  attributes 
may  be  common  and  universal.  The 
taking  together  ( con-capio ) the  essential 
attributes  gives  the  conception.  Concep- 
tions once  formed  may  be  used  as  data  for 
broader  generalizations.  This  process  is 
known  as  thinking  ; its  results,  as  conclu- 
sions ( con-cludo ),  — the  shutting  of  one 
conception  toitlim  another.  Syllogism  is 
the  universal  form  of  drawing  conclu- 
sions ; i.  e.,  the  shutting  of  one  con- 
ception within  another  by  aid  of  a third 
(the  middle).  Logic  has  been  called  the 
science  of  thought,  but  is,  more  exactly, 
an  exposition  of  the  process  of  thought. 

The  author  here  gives  an  outline  of  em- 
pirical logic  under  two  divisions:  (1)  the 
logic  of  mechanical  forces  ; (2)  the  logic 
of  living  spontaneities.  The  first  includes 
permanent  conceptions  (or  the  ordinary 
logic  of  the  schools)  and  changing  con- 
ceptions (or  logic  of  the  series  of  changes 
through  which  concrete  objects  may  pass)  ; 
this  introduces  us  to  the  categories  of  He- 
gelian logic,  so  far  as  these  may  be  tested 


9 2 Dr.  Ilickol's  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticism. 


by  experiment.  The  second  division  in- 
volves a discussion  of  problems  of  life  and 
mind,  so  far  as  these  are  open  to  scien- 
tific investigation.  Under  these  divisions 
is  included  the  whole  sphere  of  reflective 
thought.  Its  results  may  have  two  dis- 
tinct values.  First,  when  these  operations 
are  carelessly  performed,  only  common  ex- 
perience is  attained.  On  these  results 
language  and  common  intercourse  depend. 
Communion  involves  the  having  some- 
thing in  common.  Shut  up  to  sense  and 
memory,  only  such  concrete  facts  could 
be  the  same  to  all  in  all  ages,  as  change 
of  seasons,  heaven]}-  bodies,  etc.,  and  only 
so  far  could  men  understand  each  other ; 
but  given  the  faculty  of  forming  concep- 
tions, of  abstracting  common  attributes, 
and  we  possess  a mental  endowment  that 
is  the  one  touch  of  nature  that  makes 
the  whole  world  kin.  Second,  when  these 
operations  are  performed  carefully,  and 
tested  over  and  over  again,  the  results 
have  a scientific  value.  All  our  empirical 
science  is  built  up  in  this  way  and  by 
the  use  of  no  other  faculties.  The  under- 
standing may  be  properly  termed  in  the 
first  case,  the  faculty  of  “ Common  Sense  ; ” 
in  the  second,  the  “ Scientific  Mind.” 

III.  AVe  are  now  in  a position  to  con- 
sider the  objective  validity  of  empirical 
science.  As  the  understanding  is  merely 
a reflective  faculty,  it  follows  that,  at  the 
best,  the  trustworthiness  of  its  results  can 
be  no  greater  than  that  of  sense-observa- 
tion, from  which  all  its  data  are  derived. 
Now  it  is  a proposition  needing  no  proof 
that  by  the  senses  we  are  never  able  to 
test  and  re-test  objects  themselves,  even 
imperfectly.  AUe  can  be  conscious  of 
effects  produced  on  us  by  outer  agencies, 
but  never  of  those  agencies  in  themselves. 
The  mind  can  immediately  know  only  its 
own  states  and  acts.  We  are  then  forced 
to  admit  that  objects  given  by  sense  are 
wholly  phenomenal,  as  truly  subjective  as 
our  dreams ; they  are  mental  images. 
These,  it  is  true,  may  be  exact  copies  of 


objective  realities,  as  the  image  formed  in 
the  telescope  is  of  a heavenly  body,  but 
how  can  this  be  determined?  To  compare 
the  reality  and  the  image  is  impossible. 
Clearly,  but  one  course  is  open;  viz.,  to 
show'  that  the  laws  of  thought  are  the  laws 
of  things.  If  a telescope  were  endowed 
with  consciousness  until  it  knew  that  the 
laws  of  its  construction  were  such  as  to 
form  only  accurate  images,  it  would  neces- 
sarily doubt  whether  it  were  truly  a tele- 
scope or  a kaleidoscope.  It  is  a common 
conviction  that  the  mind  in  waking  mo- 
ments is  telescopic,  but  kaleidoscopic  in 
sleep  ; but  till  this  is  demonstrated  we  can 
only  doubt.  Thus  science,  if  we  have  no 
higher  endowment  than  sense  and  its  reflex 
in  understanding,  must  be  wholly  subjec- 
tive,— simply  the  attaining,  classifying, 
and  systematizing  of  facts  pertaining  to 
our  own  states  of  consciousness  (phenom- 
ena), and  we  are  forced  into  agnosticism. 

IV.  Our  author  claims  that  we  possess 
another  and  higher  faculty,  viz.,  reason , 
and  that  this  faculty  is  fully  competent  to 
establish  the  postulate,  that  the  laws  of 
thought  are  the  laws  of  things. 

(1.)  Proof  of  such  an  endowment. 

Sense,  as  has  been  shown,  can  give 
only  a panorama  of  phenomenal  objects. 
Of  the  understanding  we  may  truly  say, 
“ Nihil  in  intellectu  quod  von  fuerit  in 
sensu.”  These  faculties  have  done  all  they 
can  do  wrhen  they  have  given  a subjective 
empirical  science.  Now  every  man  is  con- 
scious that  this  does  not  include  the  whole 
sphere  of  mental  action. 

(a)  It  does  not  include  cause  and  effect. 
If  from  the  standpoint  of  empirical  science 
we  forecast  the  future,  our  best,  our  only 
“prophet  of  lhat  future  is  the  past;” 
that  which  hath  been  ever  shall  be.  Law 
can  be  nothing  more  than  uniform  fact ; 
cause,  than  invariable  antecedent.  But 
whence  this  subjective  experience?  AVhy 
are  its  successions  invariable?  These  are 
questions  beyond  the  ken  of  sense  and 
reflective  thought,  yet  they  are  persist- 


Dr.  HickoTc’s  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticism. 


93 


ently  asked,  and  not  only  asked,  but 
answered,  — answered  with  even  greater 
confidence  than  is  ever  given  to  any 
scientific  deduction.  The  mind  affirms 
with  authority  admitting  no  dispute,  that 
efficient  causes,  — ■ real  forces,  — are  back 
of  all  these  phenomena,  determining  their 
being  and  succession,  and  that  these 
causes  are  the  sufficient  and  only  expla- 
nation of  experience. 

(b)  Empirical  science  does  not  give  its 
space  and  time.  The  largest  construc- 
tions of  sense  and  understanding  are  only 
of  place  and  period.  But  no  adding  to- 
gether of  places  can  give  space,  nor  of 
periods,  time.  But  more  than  this,  it  is 
a conviction  we  cannot  rid  ourselves  of 
for  one  moment,  that  place  never  could 
have  been,  had  not  space  first  existed  as 
its  condition,  nor  period,  had  not  time 
already  existed  as  its  condition.  Places 
do  not  make  space,  for  places  are  in  space, 
nor  periods  time,  for  all  periods  are  in 
time.  Call  these  ideas  what  we  please, 
facts  or  fictions,  we  have  them,  and  with- 
out them  experience  itself  would  have  for 
us  no  meaning. 

(c)  Empirical,  science  can  never  give  us 
pure  mathematics.  Sense  perceives  only 
individual  objects  of  three  dimensions. 
The  understanding  deals  only  with  ab- 
stractions from  sense  ; hence  its  diagrams 
are  solids,  as  impenetrable  as  the  objects 
from  which  they  are  taken.  Whence, 
then,  our  points,  our  lines,  our  surfaces? 
in  short,  plane  geometry,  or  even  wffience 
solid  geometry,  since  there  are  no  per- 
fect objects  of  sense  from  which  to  abstract 
mathematical  cones,  and  cylinders,  and 
spheres?  But  we  do  have  geometry. 
Our  inner  consciousness  testifies  that  the 
diagrams  are  not  derived  by  abstraction, 
but  constructed  according  to  rules  a.nd 
therefore  are  perfect ; that  the  validity  of 
demonstrations  rests  not  on  scientific  ex- 
periment, but  on  intuitions ; that  pure 
mathematics  is  the  product,  not  of  sense 
and  understanding,  but  of  reason.  The 


reality  of  such  a faculty  is  beyond'  ques- 
tion. Without  it  man  could  not  attain 
necessary  and  universal  truth,  .would 
never  ask  nor  answer  the  question  why. 
Without  it  experience  itself  would  be  a 
series  of  contradictions.  Thus,  the  ex- 
istence of  reason  can  be  as  scientifically 
demonstrated  as  that  of  sense-perception. 

(2.)  Whence  the  postulates  of  reason  ? 
Two  things  are  clear : (a)  the  only  com- 
munication the  mind  can  have  with  the 
outer  world  is  through  the  senses  ; (b)  the 
postulates  of  reason  can  neither  mediately 
nor  immediatel}-  be  derived  from  this 
source.  It  follows  that  in  some  way  they 
are  given  by  the  mind  itself.  Yet  we  are 
not  on  this  account  to  conclude  with  Plato 
that  they  are  truths  learned  in  a previous 
life  and  now  recalled  by  act  of  memory  ; 
nor  with  Descartes,  that  they  are  innate 
ideas  written  on  the  tablets  of  conscious- 
ness and  accepted  on  authority  of  their 
divine  Author.  The  postulates  of  reason 
are  neither  more  nor  less  than  capabilities 
of  reason,  i.  e.,  laws  or  facts  of  its  exist- 
ence, as  the  principles  of  geometry  are 
capabilities  or  laws  of  space.  To  adopt 
the  terminology  of  Kant  and  call  them 
“ forms  of  thought  ” is  misleading.  The 
expression  suggests  a comparison  between 
the  insight  of  reason  and  sense-perception, 
as  though  mental  faculties  were  like  phys- 
ical organs.  Color  is  indeed  a subjective 
element  of  the  eye  in  seeing.  We  may 
term  it  the  “ form  of  vision  ; ” so  music, 
the  “form  of  hearing.”  But  why  these 
forms  instead  of  those  of  touch  and  smell 
we  cannot  say.  We  only  know  that  our 
organs  are  so  constructed  that  as  a matter 
of  fact,  if  they  act  at  all,  it  is  always  after 
this  fashion,  and  Ivant  leaves  us  to  the  same 
inference  respecting  mind.  But  is  this  a 
correct  analogy?  In  all  mental  action, 
especially  that  of  reason,  must  there  be  a 
subjective  element?  Cannot  the  mind  be 
endowed  with  power  of  absolute  knowledge 
— if  not  of  the  external  world,  at  least  of 
itself,  its  acts  and  states?  The  dream  I 


94 


Dr.  IlickoTc's  Philosophy  as  Pearing  on  Agnosticism. 


had  last  night  acquaints  me  with  no  ex- 
ternal reality,  to  be  sure,  but  simply  as  a 
dream,  it  is  as  truly  a fact  as  the  universe 
itself,  and  to  know  lhat  I dreamed  is  to 
possess. — in  this  one  particular, — absolute, 
noumenal  knowledge.  Such  must  be  the 
mind’s  knowledge  of  all  phenomena.  To 
deny  it. — to  say  the  mind  cannot  know  its 
own  states  absolutely, — is  a contradiction, 
for  the  denial  itself  is  a statement  respect- 
ing mental  action,  and  meaningless  unless 
it  is  possible  to  know  that  action  as  it 
really  is. 

Our  author  claims  that  reason  does  pos- 
sess this  noumenal  knowledge  not  only  of 
its  acts  and  states,  but  also  of  itself,  its 
nature  and  capabilities,  so  that  principles 
are  but  self-affirmations  of  reason,  just  as 
in  the  illustration  above,  were  space  en- 
dowed with  consciousness,  geometry  as 
known  to  it  might  be  defined  as  self-affirma- 
tions of  space.  Principles,  then,  are  neces- 
sary not  in  the  sense  that  reason  can  act 
only  in  such  and  such  ways,  like  the  phys- 
ical eye  and  ear,  but  in  the  sense  that  these 
affirmations  respecting  itself,  and  these 
alone,  express  the  fact.  A word  more  ex- 
pressive than  principle  is  idea  (literally 
tidog,  idiu,  olSu , wit,  wise,  wisdom,  vision) . 
An  idea  is  the  vision , — the  insight  reason 
has  into  its  own  capabilities  ; such  vision 
is  wisdom,  noumenal  knowedge. 

There  are  three  spheres  in  which  reason 
is  manifested  : reason  expressed  in  form  is 
beauty ; in  principles,  truth;  in  a personal 
will,  the  good.  A man  of  talent  is  one 
who  possesses  a large  endowment  of  under- 
standing ; a genius,  one  who  is  largely  en- 
dowed with  reason.  The  varieties  of  genius 
correspond  to  the  threefold  way  in  which 
reason  is  revealed.  The  genius  is  either 
artist,  or  sage,  or  in  the  literal  sense  a 
hero,  as  in  large  degree  he  sees  and  ex- 
presses the  true,  the  beautiful,  or  the  good. 

(3.)  Are  these  postulates  true  of  the 
external  world?  Granting  reason  abso- 
lute self-knowledge,  its  postulates  must 
be  accepted  as  unquestionable  realities. 


A man  may  doubt  his  senses,  demand  re- 
trial for  the  conclusions  of  reflective 
thought,  but  distrust  his  reason  he  cannot. 
Yet  the  question  remains,  have  we  here 
anything  more  than  subjective  truth?  Un- 
less minds  are  the  only  existences,  how 
show  that  what  is  true  of  my  mind  is  true  of 
objective  realities.  In  fact,  if  that  which 
is  not  mind  exist,  must  it  not,  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  case,  be  wholly  unlike 
and  therefore  unintelligible  to  thought? 
Can  joy  or  sorrow,  or  love  or  hate,  be  pred- 
icated of  that  which  has  no  endowment  of 
consciousness?  and  if  not  these,  how  the 
laws  of  reason?  How,  then,  if  we  are  not 
endowed  with  omniscience  in  some  miracu- 
lous, inconceivable  way,  how  can  we  either 
affirm  or  deny  anything  respecting  things- 
in-themselves  ? True,  we  do  make  such 
affirmations,  perhaps  cannot  help  it ; but 
possibly  this  is,  as  Kant  suggests,  an  un- 
avoidable illusion,  similar  to  the  illusions 
of  sense,  that  make  the  sea  to  appear 
higher  at  a distance  than  nearer  the  shore, 
or  the  moon  larger  at  its  rising  than  some 
time  afterwards, — illusions  that  no  educa- 
tion or  effort  will  ever  remove. 

In  reply  to  these  objections  our  author 
frankly  admits  that  in  possessing  reason 
we  have  gained  no  faculty  of  omniscience. 
The  mind,  whatever  its  endowment,  can 
be  immediately  conscious  only  of  itself. 
But  as  the  mind  really  does  exist  and  is 
thus  one  of  the  entities  in  the  universe,  he 
claims  that  science  of  mind  is  knowledge 
of  a thing-in-itself,  and  such  knowledge  is 
a valid  nov  o i oj  for  conclusions  respecting 
all  things.  In  other  words,  mind  in  know- 
ing itself  with  the  insight  of  reason,  there- 
by perceives  that  the  existence  of  anything 
except  minds  and  their  products  is  an  im- 
possibility,— a contradiction.  Therefore 
the  laws  of  thought  are  the  laws  of  things- 
in-themselves. 

To  this  type  of  reasoning,  this  anthro- 
pomorphism as  it  is  called,  many  strongly 
object.  At  best,  they  claim,  it  is  reason- 
ing from  analogy,  and  in  the  language  of 


Dr.  IfickoJcs  Philosophy  ns  Bearing  on  Agnosticism. 


95 


Hume  ask  if  a watch  were  endowed  with 
consciousness  would  it  not  have  equally 
valid  ground  for  concluding  that  all  things, 
— even  its  author, — are  watches  and  there- 
fore are  moved  by  mainspring  and  escape- 
ment. We  accept  the  illustration.  Sup- 
pose a watch  or  anj'  material  object  to  be 
endowed  with  power  of  thought  in  the 
sense  claimed  for  mind,  and  suppose  in  the 
exercise  of  such  power  it  attains  to  au 
absolute,  a noumenal  knowledge  of  self, 
not  a knowledge  simply  of  a few  of  its 
attributes,  but  of  its  own  inner  being,  its 
very  essence  ; such  a knowledge  of  self 
as  the  Creator  may  be  supposed  to  have 
of  it— how  much  would  be  involved  there- 
in? A knowledge  of  matter  and  force,  to 
be  sure  ; but  to  know  these  in  their  very 
being  involves  a knowledge  of  the  nature 
and  being  of  extension, — a knowledge  that 
all  limitations  are  necessarily  material 
while  extension  itself  is  unlimited.  Thus 
in  knowing  self  as  material  and  finite  there 
would  be  given  a knowledge  of  the  imma- 
terial and  infinite,  i.  e.,  space  itself.  Again, 
in  knowing  self  as  extended,  it  would 
clearly  perceive  that  the  existence  of  any 
material  body  outside  of  space  would  be 
impossible,  a contradiction.  Therefore, 
that  the  laws  of  its  being,  its  geometry, 
were  the  laws  of  all  material  being.  In 
other  words,  it  would  possess  a mathemat- 
ical scieuce  of  things-iu-themselves.  But 
more  than  this,  knowledge  of  self  as  ma- 
terial involves  a recognition  of  its  own 
dependence , its  creation  and  preservation, 
and  thus  know  ledge  of  a Creator  on  whom 
it  depends.  Anything  short  of  this  would 
involve  a defect  in  knowledge  of  itself,  its  j 
being  and  essence.  So  far  then  from 
affirming  that  all  things,  including  its 
author,  are  watches,  noumenal  conscious- 
ness of  self  would  reveal  the  eternal 
power  and  Godhead  of  the  Creator.  Be- 
gin where  we  will  and  with  what  we  will, 
the  noumenal  knowledge  of  a thing-in- 
itself  is  a valid  ™oi>  otu>  for  conclusions 
respecting  all  things. 


“Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies  ; — 

Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 
Little  flower, — but  if  I could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 

I should  knowr  what  God  and  man  is.” 

Thus  we  are  forced  back  to  thequestkn 
with  which  we  started,  “ Does  the  mind 
know  itself?  ” This,  our  author  claims,  is 
not  a question  for  argument,  but  simply  a 
question  of  fact,  to  be  answered  bj'  a 
purely  scientific  investigation  of  the  fac- 
ulties of  mind  and  the  laws  of  their  opera- 
tion ; in  short,  by  empirical  psychology. 
That  the  mind  is  capable  of  such  investi- 
gation, i.  e.,  knows  absolutely  its  own  acts, 
must  be  admitted,  or,  as  shown  above,  we 
are  landed  in  the  deaf  and  dumb  asylum 
of  universal  skepticism.  On  the  impreg- 
nable basis  of  empirical  psj'chology  this 
system  of  philosophy  rests. 

The  following  is  our  author’s  psycholog- 
ical analysis  of  mind  as  endowed  with  rea- 
son : (1.)  Reason  possesses  not  merely  self- 
knowledge  in  its  fullest  sense,  but  also  self- 
direction,  i.  e.,  is  both  intellect  and  will, 
— a person  or  first  cause.  This  testimony 
is  reiterated  in  all  consciousness  of  per- 
sonal responsibility.  (2.)  In  knowing 
itself  human  reason  affirms  that  its  exist- 
ence is  not  independent,  but  derived,  and 
thus  the  existence  of  a reason  higher  than 
the  human  in  whom  it  lives  and  moves  and 
has  its  being.  Thus  in  knowing  itself  as 
finite  it  knows  the  Absolute  ; knows  that 
human  reason  could  no  more  exist  without 
the  divine  than  place  could  exist  without 
space  or  period  without  time  ; knows  that 
this  divine  reason  is  a Person,  its  Parent, 
to  whom,  in  original  endowment,  it  bears 
a family  likeness,  is  “ made  in  His 
image.”  (3.)  In  knowing  phenomena 
of  sense  it  affirms  the  existence  of  effi- 
cient causes  that  produce  them  and 
determine  their  invariable  order  of  suc- 
cession. The  causes  thus  thought  as 
standing  back  of  phenomena  are  called 
things  (that  which  is  think-e d).  But 


Dr.  Hickok's  Philosophy  as  Bearing  on  Agnosticism. 


96 


things,  reason  affirms,  must  depend  on 
divine  reason  for  their  being  and  continued 
existence  as  truly  as  does  itself.  The  very 
idea  of  things  or  causes  carries  us  back  to 
a Personal  First  Cause.  Hence  the  testi- 
mony of  empirical  psychology  is  that  mind 
endowed  with  reason-insight  does  possess 
noumenal  knowledge  of  itself,  and  in 
knowing  itself  knows  that  its  laws  of 
thought  are  also  laws  of  divine  thought 
and  thus  of  thiugs-in-themselves,  for  things 
are  but  divine  thoughts  to  which  reality 
has  been  given  by  divine  will,  just  as  hu- 
man choice  and  conduct  are  human 
thoughts  realized  by  human  will.  Here 
then  are  solid  foundations  for  pure  meta- 
physics or  ontology. 

V.  Reason  is  also  the  basis  for  nou- 
menal physics.  Granting  that  the  laws  of 
thought  are  the  laws  of  things,  we  do  not 
thereby  endow  the  mind  with  omniscience. 
We  simply  claim  for  it  a capacity  for 
knowledge  of  particular  objective  realities 
when  sufficient  data  are  given.  As  the 
only  communication  possible  with  the  ex- 
ternal world  is  through  sense-perception,  it 
follows  that  phenomena  must  be  such  data 
or  noumenal  physics  are  impossible.  Our 
author  claims  that  though  phenomena  are 
subjective,  yet  the  mind  knows  them  to 
be  effects  and  that  by  insight  into  them, 
comparing,  re-testing,  classifying,  it  is  able 
to  affirm  with  absolute  certainty  what  their 
causes  must  have  been.  The  human  mind 
does  not  get  this  adequate  cause  except 
by  its  insight  into  actual  sense-experience. 
It  looks  over  experience  and  through  it 
and  then  knows  what  was  before  it.  This 
is  in-duction , in-ference  of  what  truly  was 
while  as  yet  experience  had  not  been  ; 
not  that  reason  is  independently  prophetic, 
but  that  it  is  authoritatively  and  accurately 
inductive. 

We  have  an  illustration  of  this  pro- 
cessin  the  cipher  dispatches  of  1876,  as 
interpreted  by  the  New  York  Tribune  ex- 
pert. The  possibilit}'  of  this  achievement 
depended  on  two  conditions:  (1)  the 

despatches  were  no  chance  arrangement 


of  words;  (2)  the  keys  were  constructed 
according  to  the  laws  of  thought  of  the  ex- 
pert. Had  Mr.  Tilden  been  a different 
order  of  being,  as  agnostics  claim  the 
Creator  to  be,  the  cipher  would  have  been 
unknown  and  unknowable.  But  granting 
these  two  conditions,  the  discovery  was 
only  a question  of  sufficient  data  and  skill. 
Such  data  were  the  despatches.  By  com- 
paring, combining,  and  classifying  them 
the  expert  at  length  determined  what 
must  have  been  the  keys  without  which 
the  despatches  could  not  have  been  as  they 
were.  These  results  he  then  published  to 
the  world,  defying  contradiction.  To  rea- 
son, phenomena  are  but  cipher  despatches 
into  which  divine  thoughts  have  been  trans- 
lated by  the  aid  of  efficient  causes.  Rea- 
son refuses  to  be  satisfied  with  the  sub- 
jective empirical  science  of  sense  and 
reflective  thought.  It  will  discover  the 
causes  back  of  experience  and  then  ex- 
claim with  Kepler,  “ I think  thy  thoughts 
after  thee,  O God.” 

Such  is  a brief  outline  of  our  author's 
discussion  of  intellect.  It  will  be  seen 
that  the  corner-stone  of  the  whole  system 
is  reason  as  the  self-knower,  and  that 
in  making  se//-knowledge  the  nod  ctt w of 
a science  of  things-in-themselves  he  is 
not  reasoning  by  analogy.  This  is  the 
point  so  often  misunderstood.  When  I 
find  a three-leaved  clover  and  then  infer 
that  all  clovers  have  three  leaves,  I am 
reasoning  by  analogy ; but  when,  with 
mathematical  insight,  I find  a triangle  to 
have  the  sum  of  its  angles  equal  to  180 
degrees,  and  conclude  that  all  triangles  of 
whatever  name  or  dimensions  must  have 
the  sum  of  their  angles  also  equal  to  180 
degrees,  I am  not  reasoning  by  analogy. 
I have  come  to  a clear  knowledge  of  what 
is  the  very  being  and  essence  of  a triangle. 
So  the  mind,  in  knowing  its  own  being  and 
nature,  affirms,  on  the  strength  of  no  anal- 
ogy, but  with  clearest  insight  and  knowl- 
edge, the  existence  of  a Personal  Reason 
higher  than  human,  in  whom  it  lives  and 
moves  and  has  its  being. 


Man  an  Independent  Creative  Power. 


97 


MAN  AN  INDEPENDENT  CEE  ATI  VE  POWER. 

BY  ROWLAND  GIBSON  HAZARD,  LL.D.1 


TN  his  introductory  sentences  Dr.  Hazard 
spoke  of  the  general  indifference  to 
metaphysical  pursuits,  which  he  attributed 
iu  part  to  the  more  easily  appreciated 
discoveries  in  physical  science.  But,  he 
continued,  if  the  study  of  the  mind  may 
elicit  practical  modes  of  increasing  the 
efficiency  of  the  intellect,  then  this  study, 
which  thus  increases  inventive  power,  may, 
even  in  its  relation  to  the  most  materialis- 
tic utility,  become  the  first  and  most  im- 
portant factor.  But  beyond  and  above 
all  such  comparatively  grovelling  applica- 
tion to  our  bodily  wants,  beyond  and 
above  even  the  increase  of  intellectual 
power,  I hope  to  show  that  the  special 
field  of  metaphysical  utility  is  in  our 
moral  nature,  that  the  finite  intelligence  is 
not  only  a creative  but  a supreme  creative 
power,  and  therein,  bjt  the  exercise  of  its 
faculties  upon  itself,  it  may  discover  new 
modes  of  moulding  the  moral  character. 

Mind,  like  all  other  objects  of  knowl- 
edge, is  itself  known  only  by  its  proper- 
ties ; these,  as  directly  revealed  in  con- 
sciousness, are  knowledge,  feeling  and 
will.  In  knowing  and  feeling  it  is  not 
active,  but  passively  perceives  and  feels. 
The  will  is  its  only  real  faculty.  B}’  this 
alone  it  acts.  By  an  effort  of  memory  or 
imagination,  we  mean  the  mind’s  effort  as 
to  its  own  movement  or  action  ; and  b)r 
bodily  effort  we  only  mean  the  mind’s 

1 Rowland  Gibson  Hazard,  LL.D.,  was  born  in  South 
Kingston,  R.  I.,  Oct.  9,  1801.  He  was  for  many  years 
actively  engaged  in  the  woollen  manufacture  at  Peace 
Dale,  R.  I.,  but  retired  from  the  manufacturing  business  in 
1866.  He  has  given  much  attention  to  metaphysics.  His 
principal  work,  printed  in  1864,  on  “Freedom  of  the  Mind 
in  Willing,”  has  for  its  second  book  a refutation  of 
Jonathan  Edwards’s  doctrine  of  necessity.  This  work 
was  undertaken  in  compliance  with  a request  of  Dr. 
Clianning,  the  celebrated  divine*  who  urged  Mr.  Hazard 
to  write  a logical  demonstration  of  freedom  and  a refu- 


effort  to  move  the  body.  All  men  know, 
feel  and  make  effort. 

It  is  conceivable  that  a being  mwht 
have  knowledge  without  feeling ; but  it 
could  not  have  feeling  without  knowing 
it.  It  might  with  knowledge  have  feeling, 
and  enjoy  or  suffer,  without  will,  without 
any  faculty  by  which  it  could  change  its 
states  of  enjoyment  or  suffering.  It  may 
seem  conceivable  that  a being  might  have 
will  without  knowledge  or  feeling,  but  such 
a power  would  be  merely  potential,  for 
without  feeling  there  could  be  no  motive 
for  its  exercise,  and  without  knowledge  no 
means  of  directing  its  effort  to  an  object. 
If  it  be  conceivable  that  such  being  could 
have  a potential  faculty  of  action,  its 
tendency  to  act  must  be  equal  in  all  di- 
rections, and  there  would  be  no  tendency 
to  act  in  an}'.  An  unintelligent  being 
cannot  be  self-active. 

Our  sensations  and  emotions  are  not  de- 
pendent on  our  will,  for  we  can  neither 
hear  nor  avoid  hearing  the  sound  of  a 
cannon  by  an  act  of  will ; nor  is  our  know- 
ing subject  to  our  will,  for  we  cannot  will 
what  we  shall  perceive.  The  additions  to 
our  knowledge  are  always  simple,  im- 
mediate mental  perceptions.  Feeling  is 
an  incentive  to  action,  but  is  not  itself 
active  ; knowledge  enables  us  to  direct  our 
efforts,  but  is  itself  passive.  Through  its 
only  active  faculty  of  will  the  intelligent 

tation  of  Edwards.  In  1841-'!  he  procured  the  liberation, 
after  much  difficulty,  of  a large  number  of  free  negroes  of 
the  North  who  were  illegally  held  in  the  chain-gang  in 
New  Orleans.  He  has  been  a member  of  the  Rhode 
Island  legislature  several  terms.  His  published  works 
include  “Essay  on  Language”  (1834);  “Freedom  of  the 
Mind  in  Willing”  (1864);  "Letters  to  John  Stuart  Mill 
on  Causation  and  Freedom  in  Willing  ” (1869).  In  1845  he 
received  the  honorary  degree  of  A,  M.,  aud  in  1869  that  of 
LL  D.  front  Brown  University. 


Man  an  Independent  Creative  Power. 


9s 

being  strives  to  produce  change,  of  which, 
when  effected,  it  is  the  cause.  Oil1  own 
individual  effort  is  the  only  cause  of  which 
we  are  directly  conscious,  but  we  are 
directly  conscious  of  changes  in  our  own 
sensations.  From  some  of  these  sensa- 
tions we  infer  objective  material  changes, 
some  of  which  we  have  and  others  we 
have  not  caused.  From  some  of  these  we 
also  infer  the  existence  of  other  intelligent 
beings  like  ourselves.  But  as  some  of 
these  changes  require  a power  beyond  any 
indicated  in  ourselves  or  in  our  fellow- 
beings,  we  infer  the  existence  of  a supe- 
rior intelligent  being  adequate  to  their 
production.  We  thus  come  to  know  our- 
selves, our  fellow-beings,  and  God  as  cause. 

Of  the  existence  of  matter  or  its  proper- 
ties we  are  not  directly  conscious,  for  we 
know  nothing  of  it  except  by  the  sensa- 
tions which  we  impute  to  it.  All  our 
sensations  which  we  attribute  to  matter 
are  as  fully  accounted  for  by  the  hypothe- 
sis that  they  are  the  thought,  the  imagery 
of  the  mind  of  God  directly  imparted  or 
made  palpable  to  our  finite  minds.  In 
any  case  matter  and  spirit  are  still  anti- 
thetically distinguished,  the  one  having  the 
properties  of  knowledge,  feeling  and  voli- 
tion, while  the  other  is  unintelligent, 
senseless  and  inert.  This  hypothesis  that 
the  material  phenomena  are  but  the 
thought  and  imagery  of  God  immediately 
impressed  on  us  is  the  more  simple  of  the 
two  explanations.  We  can  ourselves  by 
effort  create  such  imageiy,  and  to  some 
extent  make  it  durable  and  palpable  to 
Olliers.  We  can,  however,  no  more  attri- 
bute inherent  power  and  causative  energy 
to  them  than  we  can  to  an  image  in  a 
mirror. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  existence  of 
matter,  as  a distinct,  independent,  objective 
entity,  is  conceded,  it  may  still  be  urged 
that  it  can,  within  itself,  have  no  causa- 
tive power.  If  wholly  quiescent  it  could 
exert  no  power  to  change  itself,  for  matter 
cannot  move  itself.  Even  if  imbued  with 


motive  power,  it  could  have  no  induce- 
ment or  tendency  to  move  in  one  direction 
rather  than  another and  a tendency  or 
power  of  self-movement  which  is  equal  in 
all  directions  is  a nullity.  Clay  may 
be  moulded,  it  cannot  mould.  Matter  is 
onlj'  an  inert  instrument  that  intelligence 
uses  to  produce  these  effects  which  we  see 
about  us. 

As  germane  to  these  arguments  thus 
drawn  from  the  difficulty  of  conceiving  of 
the  creation  of  matter  as  a distinct  entity, 
we  would  observe  that  to  assume  the  ex- 
istence of  both  is  unphilosophical ; and 
further,  that  as  we  are  directly  conscious 
of  the  spiritual  phenomena  and  only  infer 
the  material  from  our  sensations,  those 
who  set  up  the  material  against  or  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  spiritual  are  impeaching 
testimony  by  testimony  less  reliable  than 
that  which  they  impeach.  And,  further, 
it  seems  inconceivable  that  matter,  or 
what  does  not  itself  know,  should  be  the 
cause  of  intelligence  or  of  a power  to 
know. 

These  considerations  seem  to  furnish 
sufficient  reason  for  discarding  the  hy- 
pothesis of  causal  power  in  matter.  But 
whether  matter,  if  it  exist,  can,  even  if  in 
motion,  be  a force,  power  or  cause  depends 
on  another  question  : whether  the  tendency 
of  a bod3’  in  motion  is  to  continue  to  move, 
or  to  stop  when  the  moving  power  ceases 
to  act  upon  it.  Until  this  radical  question 
is  settled,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  matter, 
though  in  motion,  can  properly  be  regarded 
as  a force,  or  even  as  a conserver  of  force 
imparted  to  it  by  other  power.  Nor  could 
intelligent  power  make  matter  a self-active 
cause,  capable  of  beginning  to  move  and 
of  directing  its  movements,  for  to  be  thus 
governed  by  law  presupposes  intelligence 
on  the  part  of  the  governed  ; such  gov- 
ernment of  that  which  has  no  intelligence 
involves  a contradiction  which  power  can- 
not reconcile.  All  that  can  be  properly 
implied  when  we  refer  an  event  to  the 
“nature  of  things”  or  to  the  “laws  of 


Man  an  Independent  Creative  Power. 


99 


nature”  as  its  cause,  is  that  the  intelli- 
gence which  causes  these  events  acts 
uniformly.  In  investigating  the  laws  of 
nature,  we  but  seek  to  learn  the  uniform 
modes  of  God’s  action. 

Another  and  very  popular  notion  of 
cause,  adopted  by  many  eminent  philoso- 
phers, including  John  Stuart  Mill,  is  that 
all  events,  or  successive  phenomena,  are 
connected  in  a chain  of  which  each  suc- 
cessive link  is  the  effect  of  all  that  had 
preceded  it.  On  these  and  other  similar 
positions  of  Mill  and  the  materialistic 
school  generally,  I will  remark  that  they  do 
not  distinguish  what  produces  from  what 
merely  precedes  change.  Life  is  a pre- 
requisite to  death,  but  cannot  properly  be 
regarded  as  a cause  of  it. 

Again,  if  the  cause  is  the  whole  of  the 
antecedents,  then,  as  at  each  instant  the 
whole  of  the  antecedents  is  everywhere  the 
same,  the  effect  would  every  where  be  the 
same  ; and  throughout  the  universe  there 
could  be  only  one  and  the  same  effect  at 
the  same  time.  It  is  also  obvious  that  on 
this  theory  of  the  “whole  antecedents” 
there  can  be  no  possible  application  of  the 
law  of  uniformity  that  “the  same  causes 
produce  the  same  effects,”  for  the  mo- 
ment the  cause  — the  whole  of  the  antece- 
dents— has  once  acted,  its  action  and  its 
effect  are  added  to  and  permanently 
change  it,  and  the  same  cause  can  never 
act  a second  time,  and  we  could  have  no 
experience  of  this  uniformity  of  causation. 

The  advocates  of  this  theory  that  the 
w’hole  antecedents  are  the  cause,  and  of 
the  asserted  law  that  the  same  causes 
must  produce  the  same  effects,  also  very 
gene  rail}’  hold  that  we  get  all  our  knowl- 
edge from  experience.  But  it  is  clear  that 
if  the  theory  is  true  there  can  be  no  ex- 
perience as  to  the  law,  and  hence  no 
knowledge  to  justify  them  in  asserting  it. 
In  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge, 
then,  the  only  causative  power  that  we  can 
be  said  to  know  is  that  of  intelligent  be- 
ing in  action.  Every  atom  that  changes 


its  position  in  the  uniform  modes  of  elec- 
trical attraction  and  repulsion,  or  of  chem- 
ical affinities,  is  moved  not  by  the  en- 
ergizing, but  by  the  energetic  will  of  an 
omnipresent  intelligence. 

The  question  of  freedom  in  willing  has 
for  ages  been  a prominent  subject  of  phil- 
osophical inquiry.  Much  diversity  of 
opinion  has  arisen  from  defective  defini- 
tions of  will,  and  of  freedom  as  appli- 
cable to  willing.  Effort  is  wholly  unique  ; 
through  the  whole  range  of  our  ideas  there 
is  nothing  resembling  it.  Will  has  some- 
times been  regarded  as  a distinct  entity. 
This  finds  expression  in  the  phrase,  “ free- 
dom of  the  will,”  and  opens  the  way  for 
the  argument  that  if  this  distinct  entity 
can  be  controlled  by  some  power  extra- 
neous to  it,  even  though  by  the  being  of 
which  it  is  an  attribute,  then  the  will  is 
not  free.  Such  reasoning  is  wholly  pre- 
cluded wheu  we  consider  will  as  simply 
the  faculty  or  ability  of  the  mind  to  make 
effort,  and  an  act  of  will  as  simply  an 
effort  of  the  mind  to  do,  and  in  accordance 
with  this  view  we  speak  of  the  “ freedom  of 
the  mind  in  willing,”  instead  of  the  “ free- 
dom of  the  will.”  The  will  is  that  by 
which  the  mind  does  any  and  every  thing 
that  it  does  at  all,  or  in  the  accomplishing 
of  which  it  has  any  active  energy.  Lim- 
iting its  function  to  the  phenomena  of 
choice  seems  to  me  to  be  peculiarly  unfor- 
tunate, for  our  choice  is  merely  the  knowl- 
edge that  one  of  two  or  more  things  suits 
us  best.  A common  mistake  in  consider- 
ing this  subject  is  in  making  freedom  to  try 
to  do  (which  is  really  freedom  of  the  will) 
dependent  on  our  porver  to  do.  But  we 
may  freely  make  effort  or  try  to  do  what 
the  event  proves  we  have  not  power  to  do. 
Freedom  in  willing  does  not  imply  that 
the  mind’s  effort  is  not  controlled  and  di- 
rected, but  that  it  is  controlled  and  di- 
rected by  the  being  that  makes  the  effort, 
and  is  not  controlled  or  coerced  by  extra- 
neous power.  The  consequence  of  these 
defective  definitions  of  will  and  freedom 


lOO 


Man  an  Independent  Creative  Power. 


upon  the  argument  are  obvious,  and  result 
in  necessity. 

As  a sequence  of  the  foregoing  premises 
it  is  evident  that  no  power  can  change  the 
past,  and  that  the  object  of  every  intelli- 
gent effort  must  be  to  make  the  future 
different  from  what,  but  for  such  effort,  it 
would  be.  This  is  the  only  conceivable 
motive  to  effort.  Now  intelligent  being, 
constituted  as  before  stated,  has  through 
its  feelings  an  inducement  to  make  efforts 
to  so  mould  the  future  as  to  obtain  an  in- 
crease of  those  feelings  which  are  pleasur- 
able and  avoid  or  lessen  those  that  are 
painful.  Such  a being  is  in  itself  self- 
active. Supposing-  it  to  have  come  into 
existence  with  no  other  coexisting  power 
in  action,  it  would  of  course  be  self-con- 
trolled. But  if  there  were  other  coexisting 
causative  beings  or  powers,  we  know  of 
no  mode  in  which  the  willing  of  one  being 
can  be  directly  changed  by  the  willing  of 
another,  or  by  any  other  extrinsic  power 
whatever.  The  willing  so  controlled 
would  be  the  willing  of  the  other  being  or 
power,  and  not  that  of  the  being  in  which 
it  is  manifested. 

But  a constrained  or  coerced  willing,  a 
willing  which  is  not  five,  is  not  even  con- 
ceivable ; the  idea  is  so  incongruous  that 
any  attempt  to  express  it  results  in  the 
solecism  of  our  willing  when  we  are  not 
willing.  Our  only  mode  of  influencing 
the  willing  of  another  is  to  change  the 
knowledge  by  which  he  controls  and  di- 
rects his  own  willing,  and  it  is  evident 
that  this  mode  is  effective  only  upon  the 
condition  that  this  other  does  direct  and 
control  his  own  willing  and  conforms  it  to 
his  own  knowledge.  It  would  be  absurd 
to  suppose  that  the  conforming  of  the  act 
of  will  to  the  knowledge  of  the  being  that 
wills  is  by  an  extrinsic  power. 

From  these  premises  it  follows  that  our 
willing,  not  only  may  be,  but  must  be  free, 
and  also  that  every  being  that  wills  is  a 
creative  first  cause,  an  independent  power 
in  the  universe,  freely  exerting  its  indi- 


vidual energies  to  make  the  future  different 
from  what  it  otherwise  would  be.  Each 
individual  acts  in  reference  to  his  pro- 
phetic anticipations  of  what  the  future 
will  be  without  his  action,  and  what  the 
effects  of  his  action  upon  it  will  be,  in- 
cluding in  these  effects  the  consequent 
changes  in  the  knowledge  and  action  of 
others.  The  interdependence  of  the  action 
of  each  upon  that  of  the  others,  without 
interference  wuth  the  freedom  of  any  may 
be  illustrated  by  the  game  of  chess.  This 
equal  and  perfect  freedom  of  all  does  not 
impair  the  sovereignty  of  the  Supreme 
Intelligence. 

Edwards  argues  that  if  the  Supreme 
Intelligence  did  not  foreknow  human  vo- 
litions, lie  would  be  continually  liable  to 
be  frustrated  in  His  plans.  But  Omnis- 
cience could  at  once  perceive  what  action 
was  most  wise,  or,  even  if  prevision  was 
essential,  could  search  out  and  be  pre- 
pared for  every  possible  contingency. 
Such  foreknowledge  may  happen  in  va- 
rious games,  such  as  chess. 

Dr.  Hazard  then  considered  the  phe- 
nomena of  instinct  to  a considerable 
length,  saying  that  the  only  difference 
between  instinctive  and  rational  actions 
lies,  not  in  the  actions  themselves,  but  in 
the  mode  of  attaining  the  knowledge  by 
which  we  direct  the  action  ; in  the  in- 
stinctive it  is  innate  and  applied  with- 
out deliberation  or  premeditation,  from 
a plan  already  formed  in  the  mind ; in 
the  rational  action,  man  devises  the  plan 
for  himself.  When  by  repetition  he  has 
learned  to  apply  the  rational  plan  by 
rote  without  reference  to  the  rationale , it 
then  becomes  an  habitual  action  which, 
like  the  instinctive  action,  is  from  a plan 
thus  ready  formed  in  the  mind  by  memory. 
The  popular  consciousness  of  this  similar- 
ity in  instinctive  and  habitual  actions  'is 
manifested  in  the  old  adage  that  u habit 
is  second  nature.”  The  genesis  of  our 
actions  must  be  instinctive,  founded  on 
innate  knowledge,  there  being  no  possible 


The  Relation  between  Experience  and  Philosophy. 


i oi 


way  in  which  we  could  ever,  through  ex- 
perience or  reflection,  learn  by  effort  to 
put  either  our  muscular  or  mental  powers 
in  action. 

But  the  argument  from  cause  and  effect 
seems  to  be  most  relied  upon  by  necessi- 
tarians. But  an  intelligent,  self-active 
cause  is  under  no  necessity  upon  a recur- 
rence of  the  same  circumstances  to  repeat 
its  action,  but  having  in  the  first  case 
increased  its  knowledge  it  may  act  differ- 
ently in  the  second. 

Dr.  Hazard  then  noted  the  arguments 
which  concern  the  influence  of  external 
conditions  on  the  acts  of  will  and  the 
influence  of  internal  phenomena,  such  as 
disposition,  moral  character  and  knowl- 
edge, asserting  that  the  position  of  the 
necessitarians,  that  our  acts  of  will  must 
conform  to  these  proves  freedom.  The 
interesting  question  was  then  discussed 
whether  a man  could  will  the  contrary 
of  what  he  does  will.  He  could  if  he  so 
decided,  said  the  speaker,  but  it  would  be 
a contradictory  and  absurd  idea  of  free- 
dom, which  for  its  realization  would  require 
that  one  might  try  to  do  what  he  bad 
determined  not  to  try  to  do.  These 


arguments  of  the  necessitarians,  that  acts 
of  will  must  conform  to  our  character, 
virtual l}r  assert  that  man  is  not  free  be- 
cause he  must  be  free. 

Dr.  Hazard  then  criticised  the  argument 
from  the  prescience  of  volitions,  saying 
that  a free  act  of  will  is  more  easily  fore- 
known than  one  that  is  not  free,  and 
hence  that  the  argument  from  the  presci- 
ence of  volitions  favors  freedom. 

Dr.  Hazard  spoke  of  the  power  of  men 
to  create  mental  landscapes.  They  can 
make  them  and  change  them  at  will  with 
a true  creative  power.  If  a man  impresses 
upon  a friend  the  image  of  this  ideal  land- 
scape, so  that  it  becomes  fixed  and  per- 
manent, it  is  to  him  an  objective  creation 
as  truly  as  a real  landscape.  To  the 
thinker  himself,  sometimes,  the  mental 
creation  becomes  so  fixed  that  he  cannot 
change  it  at  will.  This  is  seen  particu- 
larly in  the  case  of  insane  persons  whose 
mental  pictures  are  real  to  them.  This 
line  of  thought  strongly  suggests  that  the 
difference  between  the  creative  powers  of 
man  and  those  of  the  Supreme  Being,  are 
mainly,  if  not  wholly,  in  degree  and  not 
in  kind. 


Eleventh  Day,  — July  28. 


THE  RELATION  BETWEEN  EXPERIENCE  AND  PHILOSOPHY. 

BY  DR.  JONES. 


f J NIERE  is  a sensible  understanding  and 
a scientific  understanding  and  a logi- 
cal understanding.  Philosophic  knowing, 
as  interpreted  in  the  preceding  lecture,  is 
not  philosophy  in  its  consummation.  But 
above  it  is  the  habit  of  the  soul  in  the 
search  after  truth.  All  truth  is  beheld  by 


the  mind  as  subsisting  in  a certain  divine 
effulgence,  and  this  irradiance  and  splen- 
dor of  the  true  is  beauty,  and  beauty  is  a 
begetting  principle.  The  light  and  the 
beauty  of  truth,  irradiant  upon  the  affec- 
tions of  the  soul,  generate  therein  the 
motion  and  quality  of  the  love  of  the 


102 


The  Relation  between  Experience  and  Philosophy. 


beautiful,  of  truth,  of  good,  of  purity,  of  j 
honor,  of  righteousness,  of  justice.  And 
the  generating  and  establishing  of  this 
habit  of  soul  is  that  which  is  more  than 
all  knowledges,  that  which  is  more  than 
is  contained  in  the  richest  mine  of  dis- 
covery ; namely,  it  is  the  wisdom  and 
faculty  of  deeds  of  divine  quality  and 
virtue.  And  this  consummation  is  divine 
philosophy.  Man  is  sentient,  cognitive 
and  motive.  What  he  feels  and  thinks 
he  moves  upon  in  such  manner  as  to  ac- 
quaint himself  with  the  nature  and  use  of 
the  subject  investigated.  And  all  seeing, 
hearing,  sensing  and  thinking  about  a 
knowable  matter,  without  anjr  experimental 
test,  is  invalid  for  reality.  Abstraction  is 
the  reproach  of  all  knowings,  sensible, 
scientifical  and  logical. 

There  are  two  principles  in  the  consti- 
tution of  man,  whence,  as  from  fountains, 
How  two  streams  whose  confluence  is  the 
practical  life.  One  is  the  intellectual 
principle,  whose  motions  and  progeny  are 
the  thoughts  and  the  understanding,  in 
which  is  the  faculty  of  knowing  what  is 
true  and  good.  The  other  is  the  sentient 
principle,  whose  motions  and  progeny  are 
the  affections  and  the  will,  in  which  is  the 
faculty  of  loving  and  doing  what  is  true 
and  good.  As  are  the  thoughts,  such  is 
the  understanding ; and  as  the  affections, 
such  the  will.  In  the  understanding  of 
what  is  true  and  good  is  the  light  which 
illuminates  the  way  of  life,  and  in  the 
will  is  the  energy  which  works  the  deeds 
of  life.  Will-energy  working  is  expe- 
rience ; and  will-energy  works  both  in  the 
light  and  in  the  darkness.  Experience  is 
therefore  productive  of  the  fruits  of  wis- 
dom, or  of  folly,  according  to  the  relations 
of  experience  with  the  illuminations  of 
the  understanding. 

When  the  understanding  is  in  the  fatu- 
ous light  of  sensationalism  and  physicism 
the  will-energies  work  in  ignorance,  and 
in  affliction  and  anguish,  seasoned  with 
alternate  sensuous  delights.  And  in  the 


children  of  this  sublunary  light,  experience 
leads  not  to  knowledge  and  wisdom  and 
true  good,  and  therefore  it  may  be  said 
of  them  that  none  are  so  ignorant  as  those 
who  have  most  experience.  These  are 
they  who  may  be  always  learning  and 
never  coming  to  a knowledge  of  the  truth. 
Again,  when  the  understanding  is  in  the 
light  of  truth,  through  sensible  and  scien- 
tiflcal  and  logical  acquaintance  with  the 
knowable  subject,  but  at  the  same  time 
the  affections  and  the  will  work  in  the 
qualitj'  of  the  false  and  the.  evil  persuasion, 
then  are  the  actual  experiences  of  life  fruit- 
ful of  folly  and  wickedness.  Eminent  in- 
stances are  the  Adam  and  the  Jonah  of  the 
oracles,  and  the  Hamlet  of  the  Christian 
drama.  Each  of  these  understood  the 
divine  behest,  while  the  affections  and 
will  and  deed  were  perverse  and  went 
another  way.  In  this  case  knowledge  is 
abstract,  and  however  great  that  knowl- 
edge, however  universal  that  knowledge, 
if  unallied  with  the  moral  nature  through 
experience  in  the  voluntary  deeds  of  life, 
the  man  is  impotent.  His  intellect  may 
range  the  heaven  and  the  earth  and  the  in- 
ferno of  existence,  and  his  moral  nature 
may  be  endowed  with  the  most  exquisite 
sensibility  and  receptivity  to  beauty  and 
virtue,  but  unaflianced  and  unallied  in  the 
actual  experiences,  the  one  is  but  an  impo- 
tence, and  the  other  an  insanity.  The  intel- 
lect and  the  moral  nature,  the  understand- 
ing and  the  will  must  be  married.  Thence 
are  the  issues  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  power 
and  deeds  divine. 

Experience,  without  understanding  truth 
and  good,  is  not  philosophy,  and  converselj', 
the  understanding  of  truth  and  good  of 
whatsoever  order,  without  experience,  is 
not  philosophy.  Knowledge  of  truth  and 
good  abstract  from  the  affection,  the 
love  of  the  soul,  does  not  enter  the  will 
and  become  deed,  for  what  a man  loves, 
that  he  wills  and  does.  The  dominant 
love  is  the  soul’s  sign-manual  of  what  the 
man  shall  will  and  do.  The  knowledge 


The  Relation  between  Experience  and  Philosophy. 


of  truth  and  right,  not  concrete  through 
affection  and  the  will,  is  the  “ sophia 
the  love  of  this  knowledge  in  the  will-en- 
ergies and  deeds  is  the  pMlos- sophia. 
These  are  philosophic  contraries.  The 
difference  between  these  is  the  matter 
ever  in  issue  between  the  philosophy  of 
Plato,  and  the  wisdom,  so  called,  of  the 
Sophists,  the  latter  holding  that  intellec- 
tual knowing  alone  is  the  all  and  suffi- 
ciency of  wisdom  ; the  former  holding  that 
love  with  knowledge  is  the  constitution  of 
the  consummate  wisdom.  And  here  is 
the  border  line,  the  differentiating  land- 
mark between  the  living  and  the  dead 
systems  of  philosophy,  running  through 
all  ages.  The  highest  knowing,  the  mere 
knowing  of  the  highest,  is  not  philosophy. 
That  is,  the  abstract  intellectual  cognition, 
and  formulation  of  the  idea  of  deity  is  not 
“ philosophic/,,”  but  “sopliia.” 

Philosophy'  is  not  merely  the  logical 
cognition  of  some  first  principle  that  did 
work  in  the  universe  and  in  the  creation 
of  souls,  but  it  must  identify  and  realize 
a first  and  universally  creative  cause  that 
does  work  manifestly  in  nature,  and  con- 
scious^ and  think  ably  and  knowably 
and  known  perpetually  through  all  times 
in  the  soul  of  man. 

Dr.  Jones  then  reviewed  at  length  the 
ancient  philosophies  of  Asia  and  Europe, 
finding  in  them  theism  and  atheism  and 
all  the  issues  which  men  are  discussing 
today.  A divine  spirit  above  man  has 
always  been  asserted.  This  doctrine  of 
wisdom  is  distinctively  affirmed  and 
identified  in  the  oracles  and  philosophical 
speculations  of  the  Christian  dispensation. 
Its  author  is  himself  declared  to  be  the 
Logos  by  whom  the  worlds  are  made  and 
upheld.  He  declares  himself  to  be  “ the 
way,  the  truth  and  the  life,”  and  the  light 
of  men,  who  came  into  the  world  to  do 
the  will  of  his  Father,”  to  reveal  the  laws 
of  the  unseen  world  and  the  mysteries  of 
the  spirit,  lie  said  : “ Whosoever  hear- 
eth  these  sayings  of  mine  and  doeth  them, 


103 

I wall  liken  him  unto  a wise  man  who 
built  his  house  upon  a rock.”  The  deeds 
proceeding  from  the  love  of  the  soul  and 
inseparable  from  it,  the  practical  experi- 
mental realization,  is  the  wisdom  in  the 
case.  The  abstract  knowing  of  the  same 
things  without  the  deeds  is  foolishness, 
the  utter  privation  of  wisdom.  Not  what 
men  know,  but  what  they  know  and  love 
and  do,  is  the  substance  of  the  philosophic 
consummation  — the  pliilos-sopliia. 

Knowledge  detached  from  religion  is  a 
fatal  fascination,  and  easily  becomes  an 
object  of  fervent  popular  desire.  Its  cor- 
rupting tendency  upon  morals  is  inevitable, 
and  the  reason  is  obvious.  It  multiplies 
the  devices  for  gratifying  the  appetites, 
passions  and  desires  without  any  corre- 
sponding increase  of  regulating  and  re- 
straining principles.  Hence  the  character- 
istics of  declining  public  morality-  and 
virtue  are  a progressive  increase  m the 
force  of  passion,  a rampant  sensationalism, 
tolerated  license  and  disorder,  with  a 
proportionally  progressive  decrease  in  the 
influence  of  authority  and  duty.  Then 
follow  the  contempt  for  and  the  decay  of 
the  old  modesties  and  social  civilities  and 
manners  and  rectitudes  of  life,  then  the 
endlessly  multiplying  frivolities,  absurdi- 
ties and  tyrannies  of  fashion,  with  her 
amazing  extravagance  and  dissipations 
and  vain  repute  and  heartless  pretension. 
Then  speedily  follow  the  dying  of  public 
conscience,  the  secularization  and  dese- 
cration of  the  bonds  of  marriage,  dishorn  r 
in  the  violations  of  contracts,  the  repudia- 
tion of  debts,  public  and  private,  the  enor- 
mous avarice  and  greed  which  consume 
the  just  and  natural  relations  of  capital 
and  labor,  the  diabolical  rings  which  de- 
stroy the  just  and  healthful  working  of 
politics  in  the  relations  of  the  people  to 
their  government,  which  usurp  and  per- 
vert the  powers  of  a nation,  and  are 
guilty,  in  fine,  both  in  politics  and  busi- 
ness, and  even  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  of 
diabolical  rule  and  ruin  ; together  with  an 


Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits. 


104 


alarming'  increase  of  intemperance  in  nun 
and  opium-eating,  of  debauchery  and  the 
social  evil,  and  suicides  and  embezzle- 
ments and  recklessness  of  life,  and  laxity 
of  laws  and  of  various  crimes  and  disorders 
and  monstrosities  of  a diseased  civilization. 
Practical  ungodliness  and  unrighteousness 


in  a nation  are  fearful  and  hideous  mon- 
strosities, but  they  are  the  sure  progeny 
of  popular  scientific  enlightenment  de- 
tached from  a public  conscience  and  duty 
of  practical,  experimental,  revealed  relig- 
ion. 


PRACTICAL  UTILITY  OF  METAPHYSICAL  PURSUITS. 

BY  DR.  HAZARD. 


dT N my  former  discourse  I argued  that 
man  is  a self-active  and  self-controlled 
agent,  with  creative  powers,  which  he  free- 
ly and  successfully  exerts  to  change  the 
existing  conditions  and  mould  the  fu- 
ture. Having  then  treated  of  the  exercise 
of  the  creative  power  in  the  external, 
which  is  the  arena  of  all  intelligent  activ- 
ity, I propose  now  to  speak  more  especially 
of  its  manifestations  in  the  internal,  in 
which  each  individual  has  his  own  spe- 
cial sphere  of  creative  effort.  Our  efforts 
for  change  in  the  sphere  within  us,  except- 
ing perhaps  those  for  moral  construction, 
are  always  to  increase  our  knowledge. 
The  knowledge  sought  may  be  of  either 
sphere.  Its  immediate  object,  often,  per- 
haps oftenest,  is  to  enable  us  to  decide 
more  wisely  as  to  our  action  in  reference 
to  the  actual  current  events  of  life,  or  it 
may  be  for  the  pleasure  we  derive  from 
the  mental  activity  in  the  process,  and 
the  success  which  is  almost  certain  to 
reward  our  search  for  truth.  A higher 
object  may  be  to  increase  permanently  the 
intellectual  power,  or  yet  higher,  to  im- 
prove our  moral  nature. 

For  the  acquisition  of  knowledge  mind 
has  two  distinct  modes  — observation  and 
reflection.  By  the  former  we  note  the 
changes  which  are  cognized  by  the  senses, 
and  by  the  latter  we  trace  out  the  rela- 
tions between  the  ideas,  the  knowledge  we 


already  have  in  store,  and  thus  obtain  new 
perceptions,  new  ideas.  A large  portion 
of  our  perceptions,  however  acquired,  are 
primarily  but  imagery  of  the  mind,  pict- 
ures, as  it  were,  of  what  we  have  per- 
ceived or  imagined.  In  this  form  we  will 
for  convenience  designate  them  as  primi- 
tive perceptions  or  ideals.  I especially 
seek  to  distinguish  these  from  those  to 
which  we  have  given  expression  or  gen- 
eralized in  words.  There  is  a somewhat 
prevalent  notion  that  we  can  think  only 
in  words  ; but  it  is  obvious  that  we  can 
cognize  things  for  which  we  have  no  name, 
and  can  also  perceive  their  relations  before 
we  have  found  any  words  to  describe  them. 

These  primitive  perceptions  or  ideals 
are  thus  independent  of  the  words  which 
we  use  to  represent  them,  and  to  which 
they  have  a separate  and  prior  existence. 
Much  of  our  acquired  knowledge  is  of 
the  relations  in  and  between  our  primitive 
perceptions.  In  the  pursuit  of  truth  by 
reflective  efforts  we  have  two  modes.  In 
the  first  place  we  may,  through  our  imme- 
diate primitive  perceptions  of  things  which 
are  present  or  the  mental  imager}'  of  things 
remembered,  directly  note  existing  rela- 
tions among  them  or  their  parts  without  the 
use  of  words.  Or  we  may  substitute  words 
as  signs  or  definitions  of  these  primitive 
perceptions  and  then  investigate  the  rela- 
tions among  the  words  so  substituted. 


Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits. 


In  the  difference  of  these  modes  is  the 
fundamental  distinction  between  poetry 
and  prose  ; we  see  the  painting  without 
thinking  of  the  pigments  and  the  shading 
by  which  it  is  impressed  upon  us.  Every 
reader  may  experimentally  test  this  dis- 
tinction in  Ms  reading  of  poetry.  Poetry, 
thus  depending  on  this  prominence  of 
the  primitive  perceptions,  is  the  nearest 
possible  approach  which  language  can  make 
to  the  reality  which  it  represents.  These 
two  modes  of  investigation  present  the 
most  important  and  fundamental,  if  not 
the  only  distinction  in  our  methods  of 
philosophic  research  and  discovery.  Each 
has  its  peculiar  advantages,  and  both  are 
essential  to  our  progress  in  knowledge. 

All  general  propositions  must  be  ex- 
pressed in  the  prosaic  mode,  and  the  prog- 
ress of  knowledge  usually  being  from 
particulars  to  generals,  little  advancement 
can  be  made  without  it.  The  particulars 
become  too  numerous  and  cumbersome 
for  the  mind  to  deal  with  separately.  But 
the  poetic  mode  dealing  direct!}'  with  the 
things  as  observed,  recollected  or  imag- 
ined, we  are  by  it  enabled  to  advance 
bej'ond  the  limits  of  language  and  of  the 
senses.  It  is  thus  the  most  efficient  truth- 
discovering  power,  and  at  the  same  time 
furnishes  the  means  of  communicating 
the  discoveries  it  makes  in  advance  of 
the  logical  processes. 

This  greater  reach  and  quickness  makes 
the  poetic  power  the  essential  attribute  of 
genius  in  all  its  varieties.  In  its  least 
ethereal  and  most  common  form  it  is  the 
basis  of  that  common  sense  which,  looking 
directly  at  things,  events  and  their  rela- 
tions, enables  us  spontaneously  to  form 
just  opinions,  or  probable  conjectures,  of 
immediate  consequences,  and  to  determine 
as  to  the  appropriate  action.  The  facility 
of  application  to  the  current  affairs  of  life 
which  pertains  to  the  ideal  processes 
makes  the  poetic  attribute  the  main  ele- 
ment of  practical  business  abilit}'.  The 
current  events  of  life  are  too  complicated, 


io5 

variable  and  heterogeneous  for  the  appli- 
cation of  verbal  logic.  To  the  uninitiated 
in  logic,  who  are  immersed  in  business,  the 
processes  of  ideality  are  much  safer.  In 
these,  without  the  intervention  of  words, 
the  mind  at  a glance  takes  in  the  actual 
conditions  and  reaches  its  conclusions  in 
incomparably  less  time  than  would  be  re- 
quired to  substitute  the  terms,  test  their 
precision,  examine  their  relations,  and 
arrange  them  in  the  requisite  logical  order. 

The  greater  quickness  with  which  we 
examine  particular  cases  by  the  poetic 
process,  to  some  extent  compensates  for 
the  greater  number  of  them  which  may  be 
embraced  in  one  generalization  of  the 
prosaic.  Persons  who  adopt  the  quicker 
mode  are  often  notably  discreet,  wise  and 
able  in  the  actual  conduct  of  affairs,  but 
from  the  exclusion  of  words  in  the  process, 
and  its  flash-like  quickness,  they  cannot 
state  the  grounds  of  their  conclusions,  nor 
assign  a reason  for  their  consequent  action. 

The  poetic  processes  are  also  the  char- 
acteristic features  of  what  has  been  termed 
a woman’s  reason,  which  is  thus  contra- 
distinguished from  verbal  logic.  And 
the  practical  application  of  these  processes 
is  illustrated  in  the  quick  and  clear  per- 
ception of  the  circumstances  and  sound 
judgment  upon  them  with  which  woman 
is  properly  accredited.  And  it  is  to  her 
command  of  these  more  direct  and  more 
ethereal  modes  of  thought  and  expression 
that  we  must  attribute  her  superior  influ- 
ence in  softening  the  asperities  of  our  na- 
ure  and  refining  and  elevating  the  senti- 
ments of  our  race. 

But  it  is  by  a judicious  application  of 
both  these  modes  to  the  same  subject,  so 
that  each  may  supplement  and  supply  the 
deficiencies  or  correct  the  errors  of  the 
other,  that  I look  for  increased  efficiency, 
reach  and  accuracy  of  the  mind’s  intellect- 
ual ability.  The  discovery  of  improved 
modes  for  such  cultivation  of  and  selection 
from  these  two  cardinal  methods  of 
seeking  truth,  and  the  means  of  making 


io6 


Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits. 


these  discoveries  accessible  and  available 
to  the  popular  mind,  is  in  the  province  of 
the  metaphysician  and  opens  to  him  an 
elevated  sphere  of  utility.  It  is  true  that 
both  these  modes  must  always  have  been 
in  practical  use,  but  without  conscious 
attention  as  to  the  selection  or  application 
of  them,  singly  or  combined.  The  neglect 
or  unconsciousness  of  any  such  aids  is 
manifested  in  the  not  uncommon  belief 
that  we  always  think  in  words. 

I have  already  touched  upon  the  exer- 
cise of  our  creative  powers  without  us,  but 
it  is  in  the  isolated  sphere  within  us  — in 
the  seclusion  of  our  own  spiritual  nature, 
that  we  should  expect  to  find  this  power 
most  potent,  and  our  efforts,  always  men- 
tal, most  successful.  Conformably  to 
these  anticipations,  I hope  to  show  that 
in  the  formation  of  character,  this  power 
of  creating  imaginary  constructions  and 
of  contemplating  and  perfecting  them, 
exerts  an  influence  of  the  highest  import- 
ance, and  which,  by  cultivation,  may  be 
enhanced  without  conceivable  limit.  From 
these  supposable  events,  which  are  con- 
stantly flowing  through  the  mind,  we  form 
rules  of  conduct,  or  receive  impressions 
which  govern  us  in  the  concerns  of  real 
life.  It  is  in  meditating  on  these  that  we 
nurture  the  innate  feelings,  sentiments  and 
passions.  He  who  accustoms  himself  to 
this  discipline,  who,  withdrawn  from  the 
bustle  of  the  world,  tranquilly  contemplates 
imaginary  cases  and  determines  how  he 
ought  to  act  under  them,  frames  for  him- 
self a system  of  government  with  less  lia- 
bility to  error  than  is  possible  in  the 
tumultuous  scenes  of  active  life.  The 
ideal  formations  may  not  be  accurately 
fitted  to  the  occasions  which  actuall}'  arise, 
but  they  will  at  least  furnish  suggestive 
analogies,  and  in  the  processes  lead  to 
habits  of  disinterested  thought,  which  are 
so  essential  to  the  successful  pursuit  of 
truth. 

We  cannot  directly  will  a change  in  our 
mental  affections  an}'  more  than  in  what 


are  termed  bodily  sensations.  We  cannot 
directly  will  the  emotions  of  hope  or  fear, 
or  to  be  pure  and  noble,  or  even  to  want 
to  become  pure  and  noble,  any  more  than 
wre  can  directly  will  to  be  hungry,  or  to 
want  to  be  hungry.  The  occurrence  and 
recurrence  of  our  spiritual  wants  are  as 
certain  as  those  of  hunger.  We  are  con- 
tinually reminded  of  them  by  our  own 
thoughts  and  acts,  by  comparison  with 
those  of  others.  God  has  placed  the 
moral  sense  in  us  to  remind  us  of  the 
wants  of  our  moral  nature. 

It  thus  appears  that  want  (constitutional, 
acquired  or  cultivated)  is  the  source  of 
effort  for  internal  as  well  as  external 
change.  Rian’s  knowledge  in  the  sphere 
of  his  moral  nature  is  infallible,  and  were 
he  infinitely  wise  or  certain  to  act  in  con- 
formity to  his  knowledge  of  the  right,  he 
would  be  infallible  in  his  morals.  It  is 
also  evident  that  the  mind  must  direct  its 
efforts  for  internal  change  b}^  means  of  its 
knowledge,  including  its  preconceptions, 
of  the  character  it  would  there  build  up. 
Now  such  preconceptions  are  imaginary 
constructions,  incipient  creations  in  the 
future. 

In  its  construction  in  the  external  the 
mind  does  not,  of  necessity,  even  consider 
or  recognize  the  alreadj’-existing  external 
circumstances.  In  “castle-building”  it 
often  voluntarily  discards  them  and  forms 
a construction  entirely  from  its  own  inter- 
nal resources.  If  all  external  existences 
were  annihilated,  a man,  thus  isolated, 
might  imagine  a material  universe  in  which 
all  is,  in  his  view,  beautiful  and  good. 
He  may  not  make  the  additional  effort  to 
actualize  them. 

So,  too,  if  moved  by  the  aspirations  of 
his  spiritual  being,  he  may  conceive  a 
moral  nature,  pure  and  noble,  resisting  all 
temptations  to  evil  and  conforming  with 
energetic  and  persevering  effort  to  all  vir- 
tuous impulses  and  suggestions.  Though 
he  may  make  no  effort,  and  not  even  in- 
tend to  make  any,  to  realize  such  ideal 


Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits. 


107 


conceptions,  the}’  are  not  without  influence. 
The  making  of  such  constructions  as  har- 
monize with  our  conceptions  of  moral  ex- 
cellence is  in  itself  improving ; to  conform 
our  conduct  to  them  is  a greater  step,  and 
the  persistent  effort  to  actualize  them 
when  the  occasion  for  their  practical  ap- 
plication has  arisen,  is,  so  far  as  their 
moral  nature  is  concerned,  really  their 
final  consummation  ; for  whether  the  prox- 
imate object  of  the  effort  is  or  is  not  at- 
tained, makes  no  difference  to  the  moral 
quality.  The  intent  or  motive  is  not 
affected  by  the  success  or  failure  of  the 
effort.  If  a man  wills  to  do  an  act  which 
is  good  and  noble,  it  does  not  concern  his 
virtue,  whether  his  effort  is  successful  or 
otherwise.  The  effort  is  itself  the  tri- 
umph in  him  of  the  good  and  noble  over 
the  bad  and  base,  and  the  persevering 
effort  to  be  good  and  noble  is  itself  being- 
good  and  noble. 

As  regards  the  moral  nature  there  can 
be  no  failure  except  the  failure  to  will,  or 
to  make  the  proper  effort.  The  human 
mind,  then,  up  to  the  point  of  willing,  is, 
in  its  own  sphere,  an  independent  creative 
first  cause.  In  the  external  the  ideal  in- 
cipient creation  may  not  be  consummated 
by  finite  effort,  but  as  in  our  moral  nature, 
the  willing,  the  persevering  effort  is  itself 
the  consummation,  there  can  in  it  be  no 
such  failure,  and  the  mind  in  it,  is  there- 
fore not  only  a creative,  but  a supreme 
creative  first  cause. 

We  have,  then,  this  marked  difference 
between  effort  in  the  sphere  of  the  moral 
nature  and  in  that  sphere  which  is  external 
to  it,  that  while  in  the  external  there  must 
be  something  beyond  the  effort,  the  sub- 
sequent change,  which  is  the  object  of  the 
effort,  in  the  sphere  of  the  moral  nature, 
the  effort,  for  the  time  being,  is  the  con- 
summation ; and  this,  if  by  repetition, 
ideal  or  actual,  made  habitual,  becomes 
a permanent  constituent  of  the  character, 
which,  through  haoitual  action,  will  be 


obvious  to  others  — will  be  a permanent, 
palpable  creation. 

In  his  internal  sphere,  then,  man  has  to 
the  fullest  extent  the  powers  in  which  he 
is  so  deficient  in  the  external.  In  it  he 
can  make  his  incipient  creations  palpable 
and  permanent  constituents  of  his  owm 
moral  character.  I11  this  permanent  in- 
corporation of  them  with  his  moral  nature 
habit  has  a very  important  agency.  In 
the  sphere  of  its  owm  moral  nature,  then, 
whatever  the  finite  mind  really  wills  is  as 
immediately  and  as  certainly  executed  as 
is  the  will  of  Omnipotence  in  its  sphere  of 
action,  for  the  willing  in  such  case  is  itself 
the  final  accomplishment,  the  terminal 
effect  of  the  creative  effort. 

Dr.  Hazard  then  distinguished  carefully 
between  that  mere  abstract  judgment  or 
knowledge  of  what  is  desirable  in  out- 
moral  nature  and  the  want  or  effort  to 
attain  it.  Even  Omnipotence  can  do  no 
more  than  increase  the  knowledge  and 
thus  excite  the  wants  of  man ; for  mak- 
ing a man  virtuous  without  his  own  volun- 
tary co-operation  involves  a contradiction. 
The  increase  of  virtuous  efforts  indicates 
an  improvement  in  the  character  of  the 
cultivated  wants  and  an  increase  of  the 
knowledge  by  w-hich  right  action  is  incited 
and  directed.  The  virtue  of  the  effort  of 
a man  to  be  pure  and  noble  is  for  the  time 
being  just  as  perfect  if  no  external  or  no 
permanent  results  follow-  the  effort.  If 
the  good  efforts  are  transitory,  the  moral 
goodness  will  be  equally  so.  Nor  does  the 
nature  of  the  actual  resulting  effect  make 
an}’  difference  as  to  the  moral  quality  of 
the  effort. 

On  the  other  hand,  a man  may  be  selfish 
in  doing  acts  in  themselves  beneficent ; and 
doing  good  for  such  selfish  ends  manifests 
no  virtue,  whether  that  end  be  money- 
making or  reaching  heaven.  The  conse- 
quences of  a volition  may  prove  that  it 
w’as  unwise,  but  cannot  affect  its  moral 
status.  No  blame  or  wrong  can  be  attrib- 


io8 


Practical  Utility  of  Metaphysical  Pursuits. 


uted  to  one  Mho  did  the  best  he  knew. 
Until  the  man  has  put  forth  effort  against 
his  knowledge  of  duty,  or  omitted  to  put 
it  forth  in  conformity  with  this  knowledge, 
there  can  be  no  moral  wrong. 

There  is  no  present  moral  wrong  either 
in  the  knowledge  now  in  his  mind  or  in 
the  exciting  want  which  he  now  feels, 
though  there  may  have  been  moral  wrong 
in  the  acquisition  of  it.  There  can  be  no 
moral  wrong  in  the  acquisition  of  that 
knowledge  which  he  unintentionally  ac- 
quires. That  a man  involuntarily  knows 
that  the  sun  shines,  or  that  a drum  is  beat- 
ing, cannot  be  wrong  in  itself.  So  also 
in  regard  to  the  natural  wants.  There  is 
no  moral  wrong  in  the  mere  fact  of  their 
recurrence.  There  may  be  moral  wrong 
in  our  willing  to  gratify  a want  which 
should  not  be  gratified,  but  such  recurrence 
of  itself  can  involve  no  present  moral 
wrong,  and  merety  furnishes  the  occasion 
for  virtuous  effort  to  resist  wffiat  is  wrong 
or  to  foster  and  strengthen  what  is  right. 
The  condition  of  the  moral  nature  may  be 
comparatively  low  in  the  scale,  yet  an 
effort  to  advance  from  it  may  be  as  truly 
and  purely  virtuous  as  a like  effort  at  any 
higher  point. 

In  the  present  moment,  then,  the  knowl- 
edge and  the  want  which  exist  prior  to 
effort  involve  no  present  moral  right  or 
wrong.  Moral  right  and  wrong  are  all 
concentrated  in  the  effort  or  act  of  will 
which  is  our  own  free  act.  Efforts  to  be 
pure  and  noble  and  for  corresponding  ex- 
ternal action  may  become  habitual  and 
hence  comparatively  easy  through  habit. 
We  cannot  directly  will  not  to  think  of  any- 
thing, j’et  by  willing  to  think  of  something 
else  we  may  displace  and  banish  other 
thought. 

We  majr  find  means  of  inducing  any 
moral  want  and  thus  may  give  one  moral 
want  a preponderance  over  another  which, 
by  repetition,  becoming  habitual,  will  go 
far  to  eradicate  a discarded  moral  Want 
and  to  modffy  the  influence  even  of  the 


physical.  A man  habitually  holj',  who 
has  eradicated  the  conflicting  wants,  has 
annihilated  the  conditions  requisite  to  his 
willing  M'hat  is  unholy  ; and  as  he  cannot  be 
unholy  except  by  his  own  voluntary  act, 
he  has  then  no  power  to  be  unholy.  This 
is,  perhaps,  a condition  to  wrhich  a finite 
moral  being  may  forever  approximate 
but  never  actually  reach,  never  attain  that 
condition  in  which  it  is  absolutely  unable 
to  will  what  is  impure  and  ignoble. 
Through  the  knowledge  of  the  means  of 
giving  to  some  of  our  internal  wants  a pre- 
dominance over  others,  we  are  enabled  by 
effort  to  influence  our  moral  characteristics 
at  their  very  source. 

As  man’s  moral  nature  can  be  affected 
onl}T  by  his  own  act  of  will,  and  no  other 
power  can  will  or  produce  his  own  act  of 
will,  he  is  in  it  also  a sole  creative  first 
cause,  though  still  a Suite  cause.  Though 
finite,  his  efficiency  as  cause  in  this  sphere 
is  limited  only  b3’  that  limit  of  all  creative 
power,  — the  incompatible  or  contradic- 
tory, — and  b3?  his  conceptions  of  change 
in  his  moral  nature  which  are  dependent 
upon  the  extent  of  his  knowledge  ; and,  in 
this  view,  the  will  itself  having  no  bounds  of 
its  own  max’  be  regarded  as  infinite,  though 
the  range  for  its  action  is  finite.  There  is 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  there  is  any 
absolute  limit  to  our  moral  sphere  of  ef- 
fort, but  that  it  is  onl3r  relative^7  and  tem- 
porarily  circumseiibed  by  our  finite  per- 
ceptions, which,  having  a finite  rate  of  in- 
crease, may  forever  continue  to  expand  in 
it  without  pressing  on  its  outermost  bound. 

Every  intelligent  moral  being  capable 
of  conceiving  of  higher  ethical  conditions 
than  he  has  3’et  attained,  has,  in  his  own 
moral  nature  for  the  exercise  of  his  crea- 
tive powers,  an  infinite  sphere,  within 
which,  with  knowledge  there  infallible, 
he  is  the  supreme  disposer.  In  contrast 
with  our  physical,  our  spiritual  wants  are 
boundless  and  insatiable,  and  in  our  want 
of  progress  and  activity  then,  we  have 
exhaustless  sources  of  gratification.  The 


The  Ascending  Scale  of  Powers. 


109 


ideal  conceptions  we  may  always  bring  to 
mind,  and  if  we  habitually  encourage  the 
presence  only  of  those  which  are  pure  and 
elevated,  we  shall  as  a consequence  be- 
come more  and  more  refined  and  ennobled. 

We  are  at  an  early  period  of  life  intro- 
duced into  the  domain  of  constructive 
moral  effort,  and  the  quickening  influence 
which  the  soul  receives  in  this  direction 
attests  the  beneficent  provision  for  our 
earlj-  moral  culture.  The  child  naturally 
undertakes  the  forming  of  these  ideal  con- 
ceptions and  finds  in  it  a pleasurable  occu- 
pation. The  child  can  be  educated  in  form- 


ing these  constructions  and  making  them 
beneficial  in  the  forming  of  moral  char- 
acter.  These  studies  should  be  encouraged 
rather  than  discouraged,  as  they  frequently 
are,  as  mere  castle-building. 

Thus  it  appears  that  metaphysics  in 
attaining  to  an  adequate  understanding 
and  definition  of  will  opens  the  way  to 
the  formation  of  character.  Character  is 
that  which  is  permanent.  It  is  a crea- 
tion of  the  divine  order,  but  the  beginning 
of  it  is  in  the  human  will.  Herein  appears 
the  practical  utility  of  metaphysical  pur- 
suits. 


Twelfth  Day,  — Jltly  29. 


THE  ASCENDING  SCALE  OF  POWERS. 

BY  MR.  ALCOTT. 


nV/TR.  ALCOTT  stated  that  his  chief 
object  in  this  lecture  upon  “ The 
Ascending  Scale  of  Powers  ” was  to  give 
a Comprehensive  view  of  the  faculties  of 
the  personal  mind.  The  senses  deal  with 
separate,  distinct  things.  Through  mem- 
ory, however,  things  can  be  brought  up 
again  in  consciousness.  This  is  indeed  a 
great  step  upward,  for  at  first  we  only  per- 
ceive things  through  taste,  smell  and  other 
senses.  Memory,  too,  not  only  recalls 
what  is  seen  in  this  world,  but  also  recalls 
our  experiences  before  coming  here. 
Classes  of  animals  exist  which  have  only 
the  sense  of  touch,  of  odors,  colors,  etc.  A 
narrow  field  it  is  to  be  confined  to  sensuous 
experience,  limited  by  time  and  space,  and 
thus  living  only  in  the  present  moment. 
Step  out  of  the  world  of  sense  into  the 
world  of  fact,  and  there  one  begins  to 
generalize,  for  things  and  facts  are  not 
the  same.  In  this  sphere  the  understand- 


ing drops  out  single  things  and  thus 
classifies.  Common  sense,  or  the  under- 
standing, is  that  which  is  common  to  all 
the  senses. 

As  yet  we  have  been  dealing  with  native 
facts  ; now  we  enter  the  world  of  fantasy, 
which  takes  objects  of  the  senses  and  gives 
a meaning  which  neither  sight  nor  any 
other  of  the  senses  can  give  them.  The 
word  in  this  world  expresses  or  images 
the  thought,.  Ascending  still  higher,  the 
reason  generalizes  and  deduces  truths. 
Higher  than  the  fantasy  is  the  imagi- 
nation, which  deals  with  ideas  which  arc 
forms  of  all  things,  visible  and  invisible. 
Through  the  moral  sense,  or  conscience, 
men  resolve  into  righteous  deed  all  they 
have  felt  or  thought.  Take  one  step 
higher  and  men  mount  to  the  summits  of 
life,  the  Beautiful,  the  True  and  the  Good. 
Then  they  are  in  the  Presence,  iu  God 
himself,  and  each  can  say,  “ I am  I.” 


I IO 


Nature. 


which  no  animal  can  do.  If  we  had  no 
souls,  we  should  never  ask  where,  whose, 
why.  Life  descends  from  spirit  to  mat- 
ter and  reascends  to  spirit.  Beginning 
at  the  top  we  find  man,  and  as  we  descend, 
the  lower  animals  ; and  the  lower  man  de- 
scends the  more  he  resembles  the  brute,  — 
a degrading  passion  transforms  the  human 
into  the  brute. 

There  is  no  other  key  to  the  instinct  of 
the  child  than  the  explanation  that  the 
mind  of  God  is  a providence  nurturing 
and  directing  it.  We  are  ever  at  the 
fount  and  drinking,  inspired  with  vital  and 
vascular  forces,  flooding  the  soul,  animat- 
ing and  incarnating  every  faculty  and 
vessel  of  this  bod}’  we  call  ours.  Every 
attribute  of  its  possibility^  partakes  of  the 
effluence  shed  down  from  on  high,  each 
partaking  according  to  its  capacit}^  of 
reception  from  the  overflowing  fountain. 
The  golden  buckets  are  dropped  down  from 
above  for  each  to  dip  his  draught  of  in- 
spiration therefrom,  be  this  less  or  more. 
And  whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water 


shall  never  thirst.  It  shall  be  a well  of 
water  springing  up  unto  everlasting  life. 

Our  generation  moulds  our_state, 

Its  virtues,  vices,  fix  our  fate;* 

Nor  otherwise  experience  proves,  • 

The  unseen  hands  make  all  the  moves, 

If  some  are  great  and  some  are  small, 
Some  climb  to  good,  some  from  good  fortune 
fall,  — 

Not  figures  these  of  speech,  — forefathers  sway 
us  all. 

With  Fate  what  boots  it  to  contend  P 
Such  I began,  such  am,  and  so  shall  end : 

The  star  that  did  my  being  frame 
Was  but  a lambent  flame ; 

Some  light  indeed  it  did  dispense, 

But  less  of  heat  and  influence. 

No  matter,  poet,  let  proud  Fortune  see 
That  thou  canst  her  despise  no  less  than  she 
does  thee ; 

Why  grieve  thyself  or  blush  to  be 
As  all  the  inspired  tuneful  seers 
And  all  thy  great  forefathers  were  from  Shakes- 
peare to  thy  peers  ? 

— Altered  from  Cowley  on  Destiny. 


Thirteenth  Day,  — July  31. 


NATURE. 

BY  MRS.  CHENEY 


f I HIE  moment  we  enter  into  human  life 
1 we  are  confronted  with  the  problem 
of  Nature.  We  may  strive  to  escape  from 
it  by  calling  it  illusion,  but  that  does  not 
relieve  us  from  its  investigation,  for  it  is 
an  appearance  which  veils  or  reveals  the 
reality  according  as  we  look  at  it.  Our 
first  step  in  the  knowledge  of  Nature  is  the 
recognition  that  this  word  represents  more 
than  matter.  It  is  rather  the  meeting 
point  of  spirit  and  matter.  It  is  the  uni- 


versal tendency  of  the  human  mind  to 
personify  nature.  The  philosophic  revolt 
of  the  eighteenth  century  against  estab- 
lished religion  almost  deified  Nature ; 
and  even  the  scientific  mind  used  person- 
ifying language.  Having  no  absolute 
standpoint  from  which  to  interpret  Nature, 
we  make  ourselves  the  test  and  the 
standard,  and  so  we  fail  to  read  the 
secret.  It  was  a self-complacent  doctrine 
that  Nature  existed  only  for  the  service  of 


Nature. 


hi 


man,  but  is  it  possible  to  make  facts  har- 
monize with  this  doctrine?  Is  it  not  an 
aristocratic  doctrine,  this  belief  that  any  j 
being  does  not  exist  as  truly  for  its  own 
sake  as  that  of  any  other?  Must  we  not 
find  a true  democracy,  a true  Christianity, 
which  asserts  that  the  least  shall  not  be 
ruthlessly  sacrificed  for  the  advantage  of 
the  greatest,  and  that  the  welfare  of  one 
is  only  secured  by  the  well-being  of  all? 
Nature  is  chaos  redeemed  and  organized, 
so  that  life  and  action  become  possible. 
Chaos  differentiated,  so  that  it  has  centre 
and  circumference,  is  Nature.  It  is  im- 
possible for  man  not  to  personify  Nature, 
not  to  recognize  will  and  personality  in  all 
the  forces  which  act  so  strangely  upon  his 
life  and  being.  It  requires  the  slow  teach- 
ings of  science,  even  the  dreary  common- 
places of  materialism,  to  correct  this 
tendency  and  make  men  recognize  the 
relation  of  every  part  in  Nature  to  the 
whole,  and  see,  not  the  caprice  of  irre- 
sponsible will,  but  the  workings  of  intelli- 
gent law  in  all  her  phenomena.  And  yet 
how  beautiful  is  this  early  Nature-worship  ! 
In  every  religion  the  feeling  appears. 
The  Scriptures  of  the  Hebrew  race,  the 
race  which  has  most  fully  developed  the 
idea  of  the  central  personality  of  spirit 
and  the  human  responsibility  of  duty,  are 
yet  full  of  the  love  and  recognition  of 
Nature.  In  every  revival  of  the  spirit  of 
religion  we  see  a renewal  of  devotion  to 
Nature. 

Look  over  the  pages  of  the  “ Dial,”  which 
remains  to-day  a true  dial,  marking  by  its 
shadow  the  progress  of  that  sun  of  illumi- 
nation which  shone  upon  our  land.  How 
full  is  almost  every  page  of  the  love  of  Na- 
ture ! What  an  interpreter  of  the  subtlest 
meaning  of  the  Sphinx  was  the  great  soul 
whose  presence  will  be  ever  with  us  in 
this  place.  No  man  can  be  truly  great  or 
religious  without  a deep  and  abiding  faith 
in  Nature.  The  true  mechanic,  prophet, 
poet,  scientist,  artist,  lawgiver  is  so  be- 
cause he  places  himself  in  true  relation 


to  Nature,  and  all  things  work  with 
him. 

The  feeling  for  Nature  which  in  early 
nations  is  religion  and  worship,  is  poetry 
and  enthusiasm  among  the  moderns. 
The  Eastern  nations,  especially  of  China 
and  Japan,  almost  live  in  devotion  to 
Nature.  Of  fourteen  hundred  streets  in 
Tokio,  two-thirds  derive  their  names  from 
natural  objects.  With  the  Chinese,  work, 
law,  government,  religion,  all  are  founded 
on  belief  in  Nature.  The  worship  of  N ature 
may  run  into  extremes,  as  it  has  done 
wherever  it  is  accepted  as  a finality.  It 
is  possible  for  Nature-worship  to  become, 
not  natural  religion,  but  degrading  super- 
stition. In  our  day  there  is  an  aesthetic 
worship  which  is  as  dangerous  and  en- 
feebling to  the  soul  as  the  superstitions  of 
India  or  the  liberal  pantheisms  of  narrow 
philosophers.  In  this  the  claims  of  duty, 
the  moral  needs  of  humanity  are  set  aside 
as  unlovely  and  prosaic,  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  Nature  is  made  the  chief  end  of 
existence.  This  irreligious  worship  is 
always  exclusive  ; it  believes  that  it  is  to 
the  cultivated,  the  aesthetic  alone,  that 
Nature  reveals  her  beauty.  But  Nature 
has  her  guards,  and  knows  well  how  to 
preserve  herself  from  impertinent  assump- 
tion. She  indulges  her  holidaj'  children 
in  their  idle  moods,  but  her  deepest  mean- 
ings are  for  those  to  whom  life  is  real  and 
earnest.  I will  not  now  speak  of  the 
j great  material  uses  of  Nature,  of  the  food, 
shelter  and  raiment  which  she  provides 
for  us.  From  her  we  draw  the  material 
things  of  our  life. 

Nature  is  a stern  teacher,  and  is  a con- 
stant spur  to  sluggish  man.  Her  forces 
are  all  equally  read}'  to  become  man’s 
allies.  We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of 
man  as  being  forced  to  a contest  with 
Nature.  But  is  not  this  a warlike  and 
barbarous  view  of  her?  Has  civilized 
man  not  learned  that  it  is  not  warfare, 
but  co-operation  with  Nature  that  is  to 
turn  the  world  into  a paradise  ? The  arts 


I I 2 


- Philosophy  of  the  Bhagavad  Gita. 


of  horticulture  and  agriculture  are  nothing 
but  an  adaptation  of  Nature’s  methods  to 
our  special  needs.  But  we  must  learn  the 
lesson  at  her  knees.  Nature  is  alwaj's 
ready  to  work  with  man  when  lie  has  won 
the  key  to  unlock  her  grand  treasure- 
house.  What  seems  more  barren  and 
desolate  than  the  high  peaks  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  forever  covered  with  snow?  But 
without  these  snow-capped  mountains  Cali- 
fornia would  become  a desert. 

But  Nature  has  her  destructive  as  well 
as  productive  forces,  and  she  uses  them 
with  stern  determination  and  seemingly 
relentless  cruelty.  Yet  how  impartial 
and  tender  she  is,  and  what  a fair  chance 
she  offers  for  all  in  the  great  struggle  for 
the  survival  of  the  fittest.  The  giant  cac- 
tus, armed  with  its  poisonous  prickles,  is 
far  more  easily  rooted  out  than  the  grace- 
ful morning-glory.  The  contest  with  the 
lion  is  about  over.  Man,  rifle-armed,  is 
master  of  the  field ; but  the  mosquito  still 
commands  the  situation,  and  though  the 
individual  perishes,  the  race  survives. 
The  disregard  of  all  expenditure  necessary 
to  accomplish  the  end  is  a part  of  her 
boundlessness  which  gives  us  a sense  of 
infinity,  and  takes  us  out  of  material  limi- 
tations. Nature  thus  symbolizes  the  flow 


of  spirit,  the  resistance  of  matter,  their 
mutual  service  to  each  other. 

But  the  play  and  sport  of  Nature  are  as 
remarkable  as  her  earnestness  of  purpose. 
Yet  she  is  not  heartless  in  this  ; rather  she 
is  a great  artist,  teaching  us  not  alone  by 
symbolism,  but  by  her  rare  power  of 
suffusing  the  mind  with  new  life.  Herein 
lies  her  power  to  strengthen  and  comfort 
us  in  sorrow.  We  do  not  go  to  her 
for  reasons  for  faith,  but  to  be  made  a 
new7  creature.  I have  spoken  of  the  dan- 
ger of  excessive  worship  of  Nature  as  an 
already  existing  one  ; as  a corrective,  we 
need  a finer  ideality  and  more  spiritual 
recognition  of  her  large  relations,  which 
will  fill  us  w7ith  a reverent  moderation,  so 
that  we  shall  not  overstep  the  modesty  of 
Nature  and  flout  her  with  fine  phrases  and 
exaggerated  rhapsodies.  Nature  on  the 
surface  is  fair  and  attractive,  but  it  is  in 
her  hidden  depths  that  her  true  power  and 
meaning  are  to  be  found.  Science  is  the 
search  into  her  methods.  By  the  aid  of 
science,  Nature  helps  us  toward  solution 
of  all  the  grand  problems  of  thought  which 
philosophy  deals  with  directly,  the  great- 
est of  all,  the  relation  of  the  individual  to 
the  universal,  the  me  to  the  not-me,  the  one 
to  the  many,  the  changing  to  the  permanent. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  BHAGAVAD  GITA. 

. BY  DR.  HARRIS. 


DR.  HARRIS  began  by  saying  that  in 
the  two  previous  lectures  he  had 
sketched  the  leading  thoughts  of  Gnos- 
ticism, Neo-Platonism,  and  Christian  mys- 
ticism, and  found  everywhere  the  tendency 
to  exalt  the  absolute  One  above  all  rea- 
son ; in  short,  to  make  it  impersonal.  He 
would  define  this  system  of  theology  or 
philosophy  as  pantheism,  which  makes  the 


first  principle  transcend  all  thought  and 
conception.  Such  a principle  is  entirely 
above  (or  below)  all  revelation,  and  is  the 
unknowable.  It  is  of  interest  for  us  to 
investigate  further  this  view  of  the  world 
that  makes  all  finite  creatures  an  emana- 
tion in  descending  scale  from  an  indeter- 
minate first  principle,  and  we  accordingly 
turn  to  India  and  take  up  for  our  present 


Philosophy  of  the  Bhagavcid  Gita. 


”3 


lecture  that  wonderful  compend  of  Hindu 
thought,  the  Bhagavad  Gita.  The  position 
of  this  work  in  the  vast  literature  of  India 
is  beginning  to  be  well  understood.  It  is 
supposed  to  be  a work  belonging  to  the 
third  epoch  of  development,  if  we  reckon 
the  Yedas  as  belonging  to  the  first.  The 
second  epoch  would  be  the  one  in  which 
reflection  had  begun  to  seek  the  unity  of 
the  Yedas  and  had  reached  the  Sankhya 
philosophy,  which  became  the  thought  of  a 
great  religious  reform,  that  of  Buddhism, 
in  the  fourth,  or,  more  probably,  the  sixth 
century  before  Christ. 

The  Bhagavad  Gita  seems  to  have  been 
written  by  a Brahmin  who  desired  to  give 
a new  version  to  the  Sankhya  philosophy, 
such  as  would  reconcile  its  tenets  with 
more  practical  views  of  life.  A life  of 
penance  and  self-mortification,  with  ab- 
stention from  participation  in  human  inter- 
ests had  been  the  recognized  means  of 
reaching  a divine  life  according  to  the  San- 
khya and  the  Yoga  systems.  This  new 
doctrine,  in  fact,  was  a new  Yoga  doctrine. 
The  first  Yoga  system  advocated  renunci- 
ation and  quietism  and  enjoined  on  its 
votaries  the  avoidance  of  temptation,  while 
the  Yoga  system  of  the  Bhagavad  Gita 
enjoins  the  combating  of  temptation  and 
the  active  contest  wuth  evil. 

This  treatise  is  inserted  as  an  episode 
in  one  of  the  great  national  epic  poems, 
the  “ Mahabarata,”  and  forms  eighteen 
chapters.  The  first  six  chapters  present 
the  doctrinal  views  of  the  Yoga  system 
in  its  practice  and  results.  The  second 
six  chapters  treat  of  the  nature  and  attri- 
butes of  the  Supreme  Spirit,  and  his  rela- 
tion to  the  world  and  to  man.  The  last 
six  chapters  present  the  more  speculative 
views,  giving  a system  of  psychology  and 
natural  philosophy,  or  at  least  the  Hin- 
du counterpart  of  such  a thing.  There 
are  nearly  one  hundred  thousand  lines  in 
the  “Mahabarata,”  only  one-fourth  of 
which  are  devoted  to  an  account  of  the 
great  war  between  the  older  and  younger 


branches  of  the  Kurus,  or  the  noble  Aryans, 
who  descended  into  India  from  the  north- 
west, and  gradually  subdued  the  native 
races  in  the  peninsula.  Episodes  have 
been  inserted  from  time  to  time,  until  this 
enormous  length  has  been  reached.  The 
authors  of  the  episodes  hide  their  names 
under  the  general  designation  of  Vyasa,  a 
word  meaning  “ compiler.  ” It  is  as  if  the 
desire  of  absorption  and  loss  of  individual- 
ity in  Brahma  manifested  itself  in  literary 
authorship  ; and  the  Vedas,  the  epic  poem, 
the  episodes  in  it,  the  commentaries  on  the 
Vedas,  the  Puranas,  etc.,  are  said  to  be 
written  by  “the  compiler.”  If  Homer’s 
Iliad  had  been  expanded  by  inserting  the 
plays  of  JGschylus,  Euripides,  and  Soph- 
ocles, engrafting  them  on  someone  line  or 
another  of  the  epic,  there  would  be  one  im- 
mense national  poem  like  this  one  of  India. 
If  the  Greek  tragedians  had  called  them- 
selves “ Homer,  ” or  some  word  meaning 
editor  or  compiler,  the  parallel  would  be 
complete. 

The  Bhagavad  Gita  opens  with  a de- 
scription of  the  two  armies  drawn  up  on  the 
sacred  plain  of  Kuru.  When  the  trumpets 
sound  for  battle,  Arjuua  sees  relatives 
and  friends  in  the  ranks  of  both  and 
wavers  in  his  purpose.  What  shall  he  do 
with  a victory  that  causes  so  much  grief 
through  the  death  of  kindred?  Krishna 
or  Bhagavad,  who  is  an  incarnation  of 
Vishnu  (his  eighth  incarnation)  and  dis- 
guised as  the  charioteer  of  Arjuna,  here 
and  now  unfolds  to  him  the  doctrines  of 
the  Karma  Yoga  (Karma  refers  to  practi- 
cal action,  and  Yoga  refers  to  the  unity 
with  the  Supreme)  in  seventeen  lectures. 
He  applies  all  his  theoretical  and  practical 
insights  to  prove  that  there  must  be  no 
scruples  against  practical  action,  and  that 
Arjuna  must  fight.  He  discriminates 
between  inaction  that  does  nothing  and 
inaction  which,  in  doing  all  necessary' 
actions,  puts  aside  self-interest.  Disin- 
terestedness is  the  highest  virtue,  and  it 
renders  all  action  a union  with  the  divine. 


The  Genesis  of  the  Maya. 


1 T4 

The  vision  of  the  universal  form  of  Vishnu, 
which  is  the  content  of  the  eleventh 
chapter  and  is  the  most  sublime  passage 
in  the  poem,  shows  how  all  actions,  like 
all  being,  proceed  from  the  Supreme  One. 

In  this  and  the  preceding  chapter  we 
meet  most  of  the  passages  on  which 
Emerson  has  founded  his  “Brahma,”  and 
given  ns  the  entire  Yoga  doctrine  in  four 
short  verses.  In  the  thirteenth  chapter 
Krishna  says : “This  supreme  eternal 

soul  even  when  existing  in  the  bodj',  O 
Arjuna,  neither  acts  nor  is  affected  by 
action,  on  account  of  its  eternity.  He 
who  perceives  that  the  highest  lord  exists 
alike  imperishable  in  all  perishable  things, 
sees  truly.  For  perceiving  the  same  Lord 
present  in  everything,  he  does  not  destroy 
his  own  soul,  but  attains  the  highest  path. 
But  he  who  perceives  that  all  actions 
are  entirely  performed  by  nature  only, 
perceives  that  he  himself  is  therefore  not 
an  agent.”  In  this  we  have  a sort  of 
fatalism  announced,  but  Krishna  defends 
practical  deeds  against  quietism,  even  in 
the  presence  of  such  benumbing  theories. 

Almost  every  chapter  announces  the 
doctrine  of  reward  of  merit  — each  one 
receives  what  he  aspires  after.  But  those 
who  reach  perfect  indifference  reach  the 
supreme,  and  are  not  any  more  subject  to 
birth  in  new  bodies.  This  looks  like  ab- 
sorption into  the  supreme  spirit  and  the 


utter  loss  of  all  individually,  and  we  hear 
in  the  eighth  chapter  that  the  seven  worlds 
return  and  are  absorbed  at  the  close  of 
the  day  of  Brahma,  which  lasts  a thousand 
ages,  and  learn  that  “all  existence  is 
dissolved  at  the  approach  of  that  night.” 
For  the  seven  worlds  include  not  only  the 
worlds  of  man  and  of  giants,  and  demons, 
but  also  of  Indra  and  the  inferior  deities, 
and  those  of  the  saints  and  fathers  of  the 
race,  and  even  of  the  superior  deities.  If 
the  gods  lose  themselves  and  their  world 
becomes  absorbed,  of  course  the  human 
spirit  will  lose  its  individuality. 

In  the  hand-book  of  doctrines  of  the 
Vedas  used  in  India,  the  introductory 
stanza  says : “ To  the  Self  who  is 

existent,  intelligence,  bliss,  impartite, 
beyond  range  of  speech  and  thought,  the 
substrate  of  all,  I resort  for  the  attainment 
of  the  desired  thing.”  This  is  explained 
in  the  commentary  to  mean  by  “intelli- 
gence,” not  that  Brahma  is  subject  that 
knows,  but  only  the  essence  of  intelli- 
gence; he  is  “impartite,”  or  “devoid  of 
all  internal  variety,  being  only  unchange- 
able unity.”  The  lecturer  quoted  from 
the  Vedas,  the  Sanktrya  of  Kapila  and 
the  Puranas,  and  discussed  the  changes 
of  form  in  the  Indian  doctrines,  and 
discriminated  between  the  pantheism  of 
later  Indian  religion  and  the  earlier 
polytheism. 


Fourteenth  Day,  — August  1. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  MAYA. 

BY  DR.  .TONES. 


TN  the  philosophic  theorem  of  the  world 
the  natural  sphere  is  a perpetual  cycle 
and  succession  of  phenomena.  It  is  al- 
ways becoming  to  be,  always  ceasing  to 
be,  and  never  is.  This  phenomenality  of 
nature  presupposes  a cause  adequate  to 


its  production,  and  in  the  philosophic 
theorem  of  the  world  the  creation  is  the 
product  or  expression  of  mind.  And  in 
the  logical  order,  mind  as  cause  is  prior, 
and  matter  as  effect  is  posterior.  Mind  is 
supereminent ; matter  is  distinguished  as 


The  Genesis  of  the  Maya. 


the  subordination  of  effects.  Wherefore 
the  only  primordial,  absolute  substance 
is  mind  ; and  mind  and  matter  are  dis- 
tinctly differentiated  : mind  cannot  become 
matter ; matter  cannot  become  mind. 
The  secret  of  matter  is  well-nigh  divulged 
in  the  light  and  facts  of  natural  science. 
It  is  outmost  phenomenon,  static  force, 
the  lowest  phase  of  substance,  the  last 
effigy  of  form.  It  is  nonentity,  and  can- 
not therefore  be  substantive  entity.  It  is 
shadow,  and  cannot  therefore  be  also 
substance.  The  physical  sciences  discover 
no  such  entity  as  a material  essence,  but 
all  matter,  ponderable  and  imponderable, 
is  resolvable  into  force.  The  material  is 
substantial,  and  the  substantial  is  imma- 
terial. The  only  absolute  primordial,  un- 
created substance  is  mind,  spirit.  Nature 
is  the  mere  panorama  of  the  supernatural, 
the  scene  of  the  perpetually  shifting  phe- 
nomena of  the  immaterial  forces  of  the 
system  of  the  world.  The  orderly  se- 
quence of  the  processes  of  these  forces 
through  endless  combinations  and  decom- 
binations we  call  physics,  and  the  ob- 
served uniformity  of  these  processes  we 
call  laws  of  nature,  and  their  limit  and 
determination  we  call  matter  and  material 
elements. 

The  final  resolution  of  the  matter  and 
physics  of  nature  is  into  forces  ; force  is 
not  matter,  but  the  producer  of  matter. 
The  doctrine  of  the  “ correlation  and 
conservation”  of  forces  comprehends  all 
physics  and  materialities  as  demonstrably 
mere  protean  manifestations  of  force,  first 
changed  into  motion  and  then  into  the 
equivalents  of  motion,  the  so-called  mate- 
rial elements,  and  these  are  resolvable 
into  motion  and  force  again.  Force  is 
somewhat  that  is  never  augmented  or 
diminished  or  annihilated,  existing  eter- 
nally, the  producing  cause  of  all  that 
which  we  call  nature,  with  her  physics  and 
matter.  Force  is  a constant,  abiding 
factor,  the  essential,  predicable  only  of 
entity.  This  doctrine  is  at  once  the  de- 


115 

fence  and  the  deliverance  of  natural 
science  from  the  taint  of  technical  mate- 
rialism. So  far,  natural  science  identifies 
nature  as  some  vast,  incomprehensible 
power  in  manifestation. 

In  the  analysis  of  natural  science  matter 
has  lost  its  grossness  and  become  trans- 
parent, showing  the  motions  of  “ Him 
who  works  in  us  and  around  us.”  And 
in  this  confine  of  nature  and  spirit 
the  science  of  the  metaphysical  takes 
up  the  refrain,  and  theology  postulates 
that  by  the  Logos  all  things  come  to  be. 
Nature  has  in  time  no  beginning  and 
no  ending ; while  in  the  eternal  cause  it  is 
perpetually  beginning  and  perpetually  end- 
ing ; and  all  so-called  logical  process, 
assuming  and  predicating  a beginning  in 
this  or  that  point  of  time,  is  doomed  in  its 
premises  to  the  fate  of  the  vicious  circle. 
There  is  one  only  eternal  essence  and  this 
is  predicable  of  the  super-sensible  orders 
only;  divinity,  angel,  daemon,  man,  cog- 
nizable byr  intelligence  only  in  dialectic 
vision  — and  there  is  one  only  generated 
image  of  it,  and  this  is  time  with  its  con- 
tent of  physics  and  matter,  perceptible  to 
mind  only  through  the  divine  contrivance 
of  sense  organization. 

The  creation,  the  genesis  of  nature  is 
not  an  event  consummated  in  time,  but  it 
is  a sublime  anthem  forever  audible  in  the 
seat  of  wisdom,  a grand  epopee,  a song 
with  no  beginning  and  no  ending  in  time, 
perpetually  discoursing  the  harmonies  of 
nature.  The  only  absolute  primordial 
substance  is  spirit.  Mind  sees  : matter  is 
seen  by  mind.  But  mind  and  matter  are 
in  the  utmost  contrariety.  They  are  more 
unlike  as  beingentity  and  nonentity ; and 
community  between  unlikes  must  be 
effected  by  means  of  a middle  term,  self- 
related  to,  and  participant  of  each  of  them. 
And  so  a peculiar  apparatus  is  requisite, 
and  this  is  the  physical  sensorium  of  the 
material  corporeality  by  which  mind  is  in 
coni  act  with  materiality.  Through  the 
providence  of  physical  generation  and 


The  Genesis  of  the  Maya. 


1 16 


material  corporeality  the  soul  descends 
into  the  sphere  of  nature.  Without  a 
natural  body  and  its  sensorium  man  has 
no  consciousness  of  natural  things  ; and 
without  a psychic  body  and  its  sensorium 
he  has  no  consciousness  of  supernatural 
subjects. 

The  genesis  of  the  Hebrew  oracles  is 
the  genesis  of  the  soul,  and  not  of  the 
external  earth.  It  was  in  the  midst,  in 
the  soul,  that  the  firmament  was  made  that 
divides  the  waters  which  are  under  it  from 
the  waters  which  are  above  it, — the  realm 
of  the  truths  of  nature’s  order  which  is 
beneath,  and  the  realm  of  the  truths  of  the 
supernatural  order,  which  is  above.  It 
must  be  understood  that  as  there  is  one 
universe  and  not  two,  so  also  there  is  one 
soul-sentience  and  not  two  : the  duality  in 
both  cases  takes  its  rise  and  distinction 
in  the  organic  provision  for  contemplating 
the  prior  and  posterior  energies  of  essen- 
tial, volitional  natures.  Every  existing 
entity  performs  a universe,  and  is  there- 
fore microcosmic.  The  processes  of  the 
voluntary  energies  of  existing  souls  are 
unto  purposed  determination  and  limit, 
and  unto  return  thence  to  the  source. 
Process  unto  the  end  is  prior  ; retrogres- 
sion is  posterior. 

Universally,  and  spoken  of  the  divine 
existence,  this  prior  procession  of  the 
divine  energies  is  the  intelligible  sphere. 
This  is  the  prior  manifestation  of  the 
primal  power.  Here  are  beauty,  truth, 
love  and  justice  beheld  in  more  perfect 
receptacles  than  are  known  to  earth  and 
sense.  Thus  it  is  that  art  is  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  ideal ; hence  the  process  and 


achievement  of  art  is  an  image  and  like- 
ness of  the  creations  of  the  first  cause. 
The  world  has  two  sides,  an  outside  and 
an  inside,  and  through  the  providence  of 
an  adapted  physical  organism  the  soul  is 
capable  of  an  outsight  into  physics  and 
matter  by  means  of  the  impressions  of  the 
images  of  objects  upon  its  physical  senso- 
rium. And  the  annals  of  man’s  sensa- 
tions and  perceptions  he  names  natural 
science,  and  his  manipulations  and  eventu- 
alities out  there  he  denominates  society,  art, 
morality,  history.  A general  postulate 
finally  regards  time  and  space  as  part 
of  the  features  of  this  movable  world,  the 
moving  image  of  eternity.  Eternal,  intel- 
ligible natures  existing  in  their  prior  en- 
ergies is  eternity  ; that  existence  in  poste- 
rior energies  is  time,  and  the  intelligible 
forms  of  temporal  things  are  thereof 
respectively.  The  one  is  the  world  of 
abiding  entities ; the  other  the  world  of 
flowing  images  thereof.  Eternity  is  the 
divine  nature  openly  exhibiting  itself  and 
declaring  its  own  being.  Time  is  the  ex- 
istence  in  the  processes  and  experience 
of  terrestial  generation,  a perpetual  suc- 
cession of  cycles  of  equivalent  augmenta- 
tions and  decrementations  or  the  mensu- 
rated  flow  of  ceaseless  mutations  ; and  this 
again  is  history.  Outside  of  the  motions 
and  progress  of  beings  there  is  no  time,  no 
space.  Time  is  duration  and  continuity 
of  process  in  existence,  and  space  is  quan- 
tity of  time.  And  their  realization  is 
change.  Souls  can  effect  no  changeful  ex- 
periences except  by  means  of  the  condi- 
tions of  time  and  space. 


Historical  Epochs  of  Art. 


117 


HISTORICAL  EPOCHS  OF  ART. 

BY  DR.  HARRIS. 


ART  is  the  presentation  of  reason  to 
man  through  his  senses.  Such  union 
of  reason  with  sensuous  forms  constitutes 
the  beautiful,  and  Plato  called  the  beautiful 
“the  splendor  of  the  true.”  Like  this, 
the  good  is  the  presence  of  reason  in  the 
will.  A philosophy  of  art  has  to  find  the 
rational  element  in  the  beautiful,  and  see 
how  this  rational  element  manifests  itself 
in  other  provinces  as  the  good  and  the 
true.  It  must  also  stud}'  the  material 
side  of  expression,  and  learn  the  means 
used  to  render  prose  reality  splendid  with 
beauty.  Highest  philosophy  always  finds 
that  reason  is  the  supreme  principle  of  the 
world.  It  is  revealed  in  the  world  of  na- 
ture and  man,  as  a personal  creator.  Phil- 
osophy undertakes  to  show  reason  as  the 
ultimate  presupposition  in  all  existence 
and  in  all  ideas.  Art  always  assumes 
reason  as  this  highest  reality  and  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  proving  it.  It  shows  it. 
It  takes  some  material — marble,  pigments, 
tones,  words,  events  — and  shapes  these 
so  as  to  exhibit  reason  acting  as  the  ground 
and  mediation  of  wrhat  is  finite.  There 
are  reckoned  five  provinces  of  art  — arch- 
itecture, sculpture,  painting,  music  and 
poetry.  In  this  ascending  scale  we  find 
that  elements  of  time  and  space  become 
less  and  less  important,  while  the  manifes- 
tation of  reason  becomes  more  adequate. 

In  architecture  a rhythm  is  expressed  as 
arising  from  the  two  forces,  that  of  grav- 
ity pressing  down,  and  that  of  the  strength 
of  the  material  which  supports  and  con- 
stitutes the  structure.  A dim  feeling 
in  the  soul  recognizes  its  own  strivings 
symbolized  in  the  pillar  or  column  or  dome 
or  spire,  or  in  the  whole  temple.  The 
Egyptian  felt  the  same  feeling  on  looking 


at  the  pyramid  w'hich  pierced  the  sky  and 
rose  into  regions  of  light  and  clearness, 
as  he  did  wrhen  he  expressed  his  creed 
of  transmigration  of  the  soul.  Even  after 
the  destroyer  death  had  done  his  worst, 
the  soul  should  be  born  again,  after  three 
thousand  years,  in  a new  body.  After 
gravitation  has  done  its  work  and  the 
structures  of  men  have  crumbled  to  dust, 
there  still  remains  the  form  of  the  tumulus 
rising  as  a hill.  The  pyramid  imitates 
the  form  of  the  tumulus. 

The  poor  Hindoo  felt  himself  pressed 
down  to  the  earth  by  the  weight  of  cere- 
monies imposed  by  the  doctrine  of  caste. 
He  looked  at  one  of  his  temples  cut  out  of 
solid  rock  and  saw  the  symbol  of  himself 
standing  there  as  one  of  the  human  col- 
umns supporting  the  roof  and  the  moun- 
tain over  it.  The  Greek,  on  the  other 
hand,  saw  in  his  Parthenon,  or  in  his  Tem- 
ple of  Theseus,  the  perfect  balance  and  pro- 
portion of  upward  and  downward  — of 
spirit  and  matter.  His  soul  found  com- 
plete bodily  expression  in  the  serene  and 
cheerful  statues  of  the  gods,  and  those 
temples  were  the  fitting  abodes  of  such 
deities. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  after  times,  when 
men  had  come  to  aspire  after  a nearer 
approach  to  the  divine  by  renunciation 
of  the  body  and  its  pleasures,  the}'  felt 
the  need  for  another  expression,  and  found 
it  in  the  cathedrals  of  Rouen  and  Tours, 
of  Amiens  and  Cologne.  The  nothing- 
ness  of  earth,  its  dependence  on  what  is 
above,  is  manifested  by  the  architectural 
illusion  that  all  lines  aspire  to  what  is 
above  ; the  pillars  seem  to  be  fastened  to 
the  roof  as  the  source  of  support,  and  to 
hold  up  the  floor  by  tension  instead  of  sup- 


iiS 


Historical  Epochs  of  Art. 


porting  the  roof  by  the  thrust  of  the  floor 
below.  Tlie  pointed  arch  and  the  lofty 
pinnacles  express  this  struggle  of  the  finite 
to  reach  the  spiritual  point  of  repose  above. 
In  the  domes  of  our  American  state  houses 
we  can  see  the  tolerant  principle  of  justice 
extending  like  the  sky  over  all  alike,  just 
as  the  Roman  felt  the  potent  principle  of 
civil  law  which  articulates  in  words  the 
forms  of  universal  will  in  which  all  men 
can  act  and  not  contradict  themselves  or 
each  other.  The  pantheon  extended  over 
all  nations’  gods  just  as  the  blue  dome,  its 
prototype,  extended  over  all  peoples. 

In  sculpture,  also,  the  Indian  god, 
cross-legged  on  a lotus  cup,  the  sitting 
statues  of  Memnon  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile,  the  Jupiter  Olympus  of  Phidias,  the 
Moses  of  Michael  Angelo,  all  utter  their 
correspondences  to  the  souls  that  made 
them  and  rejoiced  in  them. 

Painting,  music  and  poetry  likewise 
have  their  epochs  of  symbolic,  classic  and 
romantic,  the  first  belonging  to  those  na- 
tions and  those  times  when,  as  in  Egypt 
or  in  Asia,  the  mind  of  man  could  not 
perceive  so  clearly  his  likeness  to  the 
divine  nor  lift  himself  so  much  above 
nature.  Classic  art  of  Greece  and  Rome 
reaches  the  harmony  of  nature  and  man, 
and  portrays  bodily  freedom.  Romantic 
or  Christian  art  has  found  the  spiritual 
truth  which  it  is  unable  to  express  in  sen- 
suous forms,  and  therefore  it  offers  the 
spectacle  of  a struggle  against  matter  and 
what  is  earthly,  and  the  possession  of  an 
invisible,  immaterial  support.  The  paint- 
ing can  represent  breadth,  depth  and 
height  on  a surface  of  insignificant  size, 
by  perspective,  and  thus,  with  very  small 
material  means,  create  an  appearance  of 
vast  extent  of  space,  while  architecture 
must  have  actual  size  in  order  to  produce 
its  desired  effects.  Color  brings  out  the 
expression  of  feeling  and  emotion,  and 
thus  endows  the  painter  with  the  means  of 
representing  human  character  in  its  minu- 
ter shades  of  development,  and  especially 


in  its  deepest  internality.  Music  is 
thoroughly  internal,  and  can  go  beyond 
painting  in  the  respect  in  which  painting 
first  finds  itself  in  advance  of  sculpture. 
Poetry  appeals  through  trope  or  metaphor 
and  personification  directly  to  the  produc- 
tive imagination,  and  can  produce  the 
spiritual  effects  of  all  arts,  as  well  as  other 
effects  exclusively  its  own.  Its  material 
is  not  marble  or  color,  but  the  word,  a 
product  of  human  reason,  so  that  in  poetry 
reason  is  not  only  form,  but  also  its  own 
material.  Poetry,  therefore,  by  means  of 
the  word,  which  it  uses  musically,  appeals 
to  the  thinking  reason,  and  produces  di- 
rect effects  upon  the  soul  peculiarly  its 
own,  while  all  other  arts  act  mediately 
through  the  senses  of  sight  or  hearing  upon 
the  feelings  and  imagination,  and  then 
reach  the  intellect  by  this  indirect  road. 

Although  each  epoch  of  the  world  has 
its  art,  yet  we  cannot  afford  to  be  very 
generous  in  conceding  to  all  the  principle 
of  the  realization  of  beauty.  Only  where 
freedom  is  conceived  in  the  mind  can 
be  there  produced  beauty  in  art.  Free- 
dom in  the  bod}'  gives  us  the  highest 
reach  of  plastic  art,  — that  of  Greece  and 
Rome  ; freedom  from  the  bod}’,  the  high- 
est forms  of  romantic  art.  Art  every- 
where must  presuppose  a personal  prin- 
ciple in  the  world  as  its  lord.  In  poetry 
we  have  this  recognized  in  the  very  ele- 
ments of  poetic  expression,  to  wit,  in 
trope  and  personification,  which  form  the 
very  brick  and  mortar  of  poetry.  The 
whole  world  of  nature  is  viewed  as  instinct 
with  spirit,  and  man  looks  upon  each 
plant  and  animal,  and  even  each  thing 
and  place,  as  having  human  personality. 
Thus  what  religion  worships  as  the  su- 
preme, and  thought  recognizes  as  truth, 
art  will  insist  upon  seeing  in  the  world  of 
finite  objects. 

The  lecturer  discussed  at  length  the 
limits  of  the  several  forms  of  art  and  the 
special  advantages  of  each  in  expression, 
and  touched  upon  the  distribution  of  dif- 


Childhood. 


119 


ferent  ait-instincts  among  the  nations  of 
the  world  — sculpture  to  the  Greeks,  paint- 
ing to  the  Italians,  music  to  the  Germans. 
The  study  of  great  works  of  art  from  the 
side  of  their  motives  and  composition,  was 
dwelt  upon  as  the  true  road  to  art-culture. 
The  positions  were  illustrated  by  au  analy- 
sis of  the  Holbein  Madonna,  comparing 
the  Dresden  copy  with  that  of  Basle,  and 


also  by  analysis  of  the  Sistine  Madonna, 
comparing  the  engraving  bj-  Mueller  with 
the  original,  and  showing  the  defects  of 
the  former.  The  same  course  was  taken 
with  the  engraving  of  Michael  Angelo’s 
Fates,  showing  how  the  engraver  had 
misunderstood  the  original.  A magic 
lantern  was  used  to  produce  the  pictures 
for  illustration. 


Fifteenth  Day,  — August  2. 


CHILDHOOD. 


BY  MISS  ELIZABETH 

'A./TISS  PEABODY  said : The  inclusive 
subject  of  childhood  was  suggested 
to  me  by  the  remarkable  dream  of  the  gen- 
erous lady  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
this  convenient  little  building  in  which 
we  are  assembled.  It  was  one  of  those 
dreams  which  our  friend  Dr.  Hedge  dis- 
criminated from  the  unconscious  cerebra- 
tion which  explains  ordinary  dreaming, 
being  a production  of  the  creative  im- 
agination, when  the  senses  were  asleep, 
and  giving  sjnnbolic  form  to  the  ideas  of 
reason,  which  are  the  shining  into  the  soul 

1 Elizabeth  Palmer  Peabody  was  born  in  1804,  in  Biller- 
ica, Mass.,  where  her  parents  passed  the  first  two  years 
of  their  married  life,  and  where  her  mother  kept  a boarding- 
school,  while  her  father  studied  medicine  with  the  cele- 
brated Dr.  Pemberton.  Elizabeth  grew  up  in  Salem, 
where  her  father  settled  to  practise  his  profession  in  1808, 
and  her  mother  taught  young  ladies  in  a day  school 
a good  deal  of  the  time  for  the  next  sixteen  years,  and 
Elizabeth  never  had  any  other  instruction  than  from  her 
father  and  mother.  The  family  removed  to  Lancaster, 
Mass.,  in  1820,  and  she  there  taught  a private  school  till  she 
was  eighteen,  when  she  was  introduced  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Thayer  and  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Richard  Cleveland  to  their 
respective  circles  of  acquaintances  in  Boston  and  Cam- 
bridge, where  she  already  had  acquaintance  and  relatives, 
for  she  was  the  grand-daughter  of  Colonel  Joseph  Pierce 
Palmer,  whose  father,  General  Joseph  Palmer,  had 
immigrated  to  this  country  from  Devonshire,  England, 
with  his  cousin,  Judge  Cranch,  whose  sister  Mary  he  had 
married,  and  settled  in  what  is  now  the  town  of  Quincy, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Father  and  , 


PALMER  PEABODY.1 

of  the  mind  of  God,  — God’s  part  in  the 
conversation  that  makes  our  human  life 
also  divine. 

In  a noon-dav  nap,  just  after  she 
had  been  listening  to  one  of  our  pro- 
foundest  lecturers,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Thomp- 
son dreamed  that  in  place  of  this 
chapel  on  the  Hillside,  she  saw  a great 
white  throne,  to  which  many  broad  mar- 
ble steps  led  up ; and  on  the  throne 
sat  a majestic  form  with  the  rainbow 
tolded  round  his  head,  as  a crown.  He 
was  gazing  meditatively  on  an  infant 

son  took  an  active  part  in  the  movements  for  preserving 
their  English  liberty,  and  Miss  Peabody  always  declared 
that  through  her  patriotic  mother  she  was  educated  by 
the  heroic  age  of  the  country’s  history.  Her  own  life  has 
been  uneventful,  as  she  has  been  engaged  in  teaching  in 
Boston,  Salem,  two  years  on  the  banks  of  the  Kennebec, 
two  years  at  Eagleswood,  Perth  Amboy,  and  often  con- 
fining herself  to  directing  classes  of  history.  Her  reminis- 
cences of  Dr.  Channing  contain  much  autobiography,  and 
it  is  said  that  she  is  employing  the  leisure  of  her  old  age, 
in  writing  for  posthumous  publication  reminiscences  of 
other  distinguished  friends,  having  had  intimate  relations 
with  a large  number  of  the  most  distinguished  men  and 
women  of  her  day.  For  the  last  twenty  years  she  has  de- 
voted herself  to  spread  the  educational  reform  of  Friedrich 
Froebel  in  the  United  States,  and  keeping  it  pure  from  un- 
harmonious  admixtures,  “a  protected  self-education  of 
childhood,  being,”  as  she  says,  “ the  second  coming  of 
Christ,”  according  to  his  own  intimation:  “He  that  re- 
ceiveth  a little  child  in  my  name,  receiveth  me.” 


120 


Childhood. 


child  lying  upon  his  lap,  while  at  his  side 
were  two  small  clouds  gyrating,  one  of 
which  gradually  disclosed  the  form  of  a 
bird’s  nest  full  of  half  fledged  little  birds 
with  their  beaks  wide  open,  as  if  crying 
for  food  ; and  the  other  became  the  form 
of  the  mother-bird  flying  downward  toward 
the  young  ones  with  a morsel  in  her  beak 
to  feed  them.  This  beautiful  picture  has 
haunted  my  imagination  ever  since  I 
heard  Mrs.  Thompson  tell  of  it,  — it  was 
so  picturesque  an  embodiment,  so  expres- 
sive of  the  idea  of  the  Concord  school  with 
the  subject  of  its  stud}’,  as  its  two  oppo- 
site poles,  spirit  and  nature,  the  creative 
soul  and  the  created  body  of  truth.  For 
I said  to  myself,  — is  not  childhood  the 
yet  unshadowed,  immeasurable  insensi- 
bilit}'  of  the  Eternal  Soul  ere  the  impact 
of  nature  on  it,  and  its  consequent  reaction 
had  begun  to  limit  it  to  individual  expe- 
rience? And  what  is  nature  but  an  em- 
bodied expression  of  the  life  of  humanity? 
This  life  of  humanity  varies  according  to 
the  special  standpoint  of  time  and  space 
at  which  each  one  finds  himself  at  birth , 
giving  each  a different  angle  of  perspec- 
tive for  his  outlook,  whence  it  results 
that,  — 

“Eternal  form  doth  still  divide 
The  Eternal  Soul  from  all  beside.” 

There  is,  then,  no  one  object  ofcontem- 
plation  so  instructive  in  the  science  of 
man,  and  which  so  challenges  the  investi- 
gations of  philosophy,  as  the  child  whom 
Wordsworth  calls,  “ the  father  of  the 
man,”  the  child  in  that  tender  season  of 
his  being,  of  which  Emerson  has  sung  in 
the  Sphinx-Song  when  : 

“ Shines  the  peace  of  all  being,  without 
cloud, 

And  the  sum  of  the  world  in  soft  miniature  I 
lies.” 

Are  we  not  fain  to  sing  over  it  the  grand 
rhymes  of  Wordsworth,  beginning: 

“Thou  whose  exterior  semblance  doth  belie 
Thy  soul’s  immensity.” 


[Here  Miss  Peabody  quoted  the  whole 
of  this  magnificent  ode  to  the  words,  “ On 
thy  being’s  height,”  and  continued  :] 

But  if  on  its  being’s  height,  asks  the 
sceptic  Philistine,  is  not  this  human  life 
on  which  it  is  entering  a misfortune,  a 
fall,  a curse?  Is  it  worth  living?  .... 

But,  behold ! here  sits  Philosophy, 
crowned  with  the  rainbow  of  promise  and 
pointing  to  the  most  central  and  heart- 
touching phenomenon  in  nature,  the 
mother  in  her  characteristic  act,  who 
makes  reply  with  the  analytic  and  gen- 
eralizing processes  of  the  understanding 
and  bids  us  observe,  that  before  the  process 
of  individualizing  the  mind  has  begun,  in 
that  season  of  physical  helplessness  inci- 
dent to  the  planting  of  the  immortal  spirit 
in  the  material  world,  there  is  revealed 
a counterpart  to  the  Divine  creativeness, 
viz.,  the  human  providence , of  which  the 
instinctive  method  of  motherhood  is  the 
beginning  in  time.  The  immeasurable 
sensibility  of  childhood  is  not  thrown  with 
a cruel  recklessness  on  the  rocks  of  ne- 
cessity, which  are  to  individualize  it,  but 
is  gently  laid  in  the  arms  of  motherly  love, 
to  be  very  tenderly  and  gradually  brought 
into  contact  with  material  nature,  the 
correlated  opposite  which  is  to  become 
eventually  the  child’s  instrumentality  for, 
at  least,  “ the  forever  of  this  world.” 

By  becoming  his  instrumentality  for  the 
employment  of  his  boundless  energies  and 
the  gratification  of  his  innocent  desires, 
nature  becomes  a revelation  to  his  mind. 
The  eternal  word,  of  which  the  forms  of 
things  are  S3’llable,  shines  into  nature’s 
darkness  to  enlighten  the  blind  heart  and 
direct  the  blind  will  of  every  man  that 
cometh  into  the  world  ; and  this  resound- 
ing light  is  the  life  of  humanity , for  what, 
precisely,  manes  the  word  life , but  con- 
scious relationship , including  relations  of 
individuals  to  each  other,  and  of  mankind 
to  God.  This  relationship  eternally  ex- 
ists, whether  recognized  or  not  by  us,  and 


Childhood. 


121 


breaks  forth  in  the  immeasurable  joy  of 
the  young  child  in  his  surroundings,  when 
they  are  normal,  — joy  in  nature,  joy  in 
human  intercourse.  The  first  joyous  con- 
sciousness of  the  child  is  of  its  filial  de- 
pendence on  the  loving  mother,  who 
embodies  to  him  the  infinite  love  ; and  if 
the  parents  be  true  to  the  child,  as  a con- 
ception of  the  Holy  Ghost,  rather  than  as 
a fruit  of  the  body,  and  ponder  all  the 
child’s  words  in  their  hearts,  as  Mary  did 
those  of  the  child  Jesus,  he  shall  sponta- 
neously “ grow  in  wisdom  and  in  stature, 
and  in  favor  with  God  and  man,”  while 
subject  to  them. 

I want  to  emphasize  the  truth,  that'  the 
child  of  Man  and  of  Nature  appears  to 
be  so  lovingly  sent  upon  earth,  by  the 
Father  of  Spirits,  for  the  immediate  pur- 
pose of  enjoying  itself  in  relation  to  nature 
and  mankind,  and  for  the  ultimate  purpose 
of  enacting  love  freely  on  the  plane  of 
human  life.  .... 

The  joy  of  childhood,  which  sends  the 
little  body  bounding  upward  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  whole  gravitation  of 
the  earth,  needing  the  mother’s  whole 
strength  to  keep  it  from  springing  out  of 
her  arms,  surely  means  more  than  the 
mere  sense  of  animal  well-being.  Ruskin 
has  noticed  and  beautifully  illustrated  the 
infinite  disproportion  of  this  joy  to  the 
occasions  which  call  forth  the  expression 
of  it The  child  is  presumably  in- 

corporated with  nature  for  some  purpose 

of  love Is  it  not  to  individualize 

into  self-conscious  sons  the  eternally  be- 
gotten of  God,  who  was  with  God  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  and  is  con- 
sciously to  ascend  up  where  he  was  before? 

Our  common  sense,  common  conscience, 
common  ideals  of  justice,  love  and  beauty, 
testify^  to,  for  the}'  constitute,  the  pre- 
existent man  of  Plato,  and  by  reason  of 
them  all  children  are  alike  in  more  than 
they  are  different,  and  are,  I affirm,  in- 
trinsically more  generous  than  selfish  un- 
til made  selfish  in  sheer  self-defence,  by 


our  neglect  or  cruel  misunderstanding  and 
undervaluing  of  them,  and  consequent 
arbitrary  handling.  But  the  individuality, 
the  different  peculium  of  each  individual 
in  each  instance,  also  expresses  somewhat 
of  God,  their  pre-existence  with  the  Father, 
and  this  is  the  individual’s  own  secret  and 
reason  for  being.  This  secret  is  only  to 
be  communicated  to  other  individuals  at 
“ his  own  sweet  will,”  as  it  always  will  be, 
sooner  or  later,  because  of  the  all-prevail- 
ing instinct  of  unity,  that  prompts  inter- 
communion of  thought,  feeling  and  spirit. 
It  is  this  intercommunion,  “ speaking  the 
truth  in  love,”  preferring  one  another  in 
love,  which  is  human  goodness,  the  per- 
fecting of  the  just , which  is  St.  Paul’s 
idea  of  heaven  ; in  fine,  that  loving  of 
“the  brother  whom  we  have  seen,”  that 
enables  us  “ to  love  God,  whom  we  have 
not  seen.”  This  generous  life  of  the  in- 
dividual, (observe  the  etymology  of  the 
word  generous)  should  go  on  in  the  child, 
whose  birth  need  not  be  an  absolute  for- 
getting of  “ the  glories  he  has  known  and 
that  imperial  palace  whence  he  came,” 
though  a partial  forgetting  is  necessary  to 
bring  him  within  the  attractions  of  nature 
and  human  life. 

The  great  Italian  philosopher,  Gioberte, 
proclaimed  this  scientific  statement  of 
childhood,  when  lie’ said,  that  the  soul  has 
seen  God  before  embodiment,  and  was 
put  to  sleep  in  nature  to  be  waked  up, 
point  by  point,  by  the  particulars  of  na- 
ture, whose  generalization  shall  experi- 
mentally restore  the  original  vision,  gradu- 
ally giving  a certain  cubical  solidity  to 
self-consciousness,  which  grows  more  and 
more  broadly  personal  by  enlarging  its 
boundaries  through  communion  in  all  di- 
rections with  other  persons,  learning  the 
individual  secrets  of  them  cdl  personally, 
until  a mutual  understanding  be  developed, 
symmetrical  and  satisfactory  to  reason. 
Personality  means  absolute  free  agency, 
and  reason  etymologically  signifies  the 
relations,  i.  e.,  the  ratios  of  the  parts  to 


12  2 


Childhood. 


the  wholeness  (holiness),  which  is  in  the 
soul,  beauty;  in  the  mind,  truth;  and  in 
the  activity,  power  of  good,  or  efficient 
will. 

Miss  Peabody  said  that  the  common 
notion  of  childhood’s  being  a negative 
of  life  and  being,  a blank  paper  to  be 
scrawled  over  with  other  men’s  thought, 
or  a crude  matter  to  be  drilled  and 
shaped  by  an  educator’s  finite  will  ac- 
cording to  his  finite  ideal,  prevents  it 
from  being  a subject  of  science  at  all, 
and  makes  the  educator  a creating  ma- 
chine instead  of  a creative  philosopher. 
She  defined  spirituality  to  be  the  equi- 
poise of  the  feeling  heart,  the  active  will 
and  the  thoughtful  understanding,  which 
makes  a living  unit,  the  statement  of 
whose  three  aspects  or  modes  of  being 
— feeling,  activity  and  thought — in  one 
triplicity  without  dividing  the  substance 
or  confounding  the  terms,  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  make  ; and  which  can  only  be 
pointed  at  by  human  language,  not  fully 
expressed  or  understood,  except  by  the 
co-operation  of  the  hearer  of  the  word. 

Childhood,  she  said,  was  the  unfallen 
man  as  he  first  appears  on  the  shores  of 
matter,  rushing  into  the  darkness  of  an 
earth  without  form  and  void,  and  being 
individualized  thereby,  which  individuali- 
zation is  the  cause  both  of  evil  and  good 
that  are  facts  of  human  life.  She  seemed 
to  think  that  we  were  apt  to  dwell  on  the 
limitation  of  the  eternal  element  by  the 
conditions  of  time  and  space  rather  than 
on  the  complement  of  individuality  by 
other  individualities  of  the  human  race, 
and  so  to  take  a too  narrow  view  of  child- 
hood, not  grasping  the  essential  being, 
whom  Christ  set  before  his  disciples  as 
their  teacher,  from  whom  the}”  could  learn 
only  by  appreciating  what  he  intrinsically 
is.  Only  putting  themselves  in  his  place 
would  begin  a human  living  that  should 
be  a divine  life  on  earth.  She  said  this 
could  be  done  if  the  grown-up  received 
the  child  in  the  name  of  Chiist,  that  is, 


as  the  anointed  Spirit  creating  in  com- 
munion with  God  a spiritual  universe. 
This  was  man’s  overcoming  the  world  and 
sitting  down  on  the  Father’s  throne  — 
king  of  nature  — the  Son  of  Man  in  con- 
scious communion  with  God  forever  more. 

Miss  Peabody  explained  the  parable  of 
the  prodigal  son  as  follows  : 

I note  a difference  between  the  words 
force  and  power.  Force  is  predicated  of 
the  necessary  correlations  of  nature,  — is 
fatal ; power  means  freedom  to  will,  full- 
ness of  life,  creativeness,  and  is  spiritual; 
a word  which  is  more  specific  than  the 
German  word  geistliche  that  confounds 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual.  The  intel- 
lect generalizes  the  perceptions  we  have 
of  natural  facts,  and  the  laws  of  things, 
to  which  the  laws  of  thought  correspond  ; 
but  the  spirit  involves  feeling  and  free 
will ; and  the  word  spiritual  in  the  Chris- 
tian oracles  always  implies  communion 
with  the  race,  as  such,  and  with  God.  who 
wooes  his  child  into  it  by  that  act  of 
parental  love  which  puts  all  souls  into 
equal  fraternal  and  filial  relation  respec- 
tive^' with  one  another  and  with  the 
common  Father,  who  indulges  the  way- 
ward (so  precious  in  his  sight  is  the  free 
will)  with  giving  to  him  his  portion  of 
goods  on  demand,  even  to  carry  it  away 
to  a far  country,  to  make  his  own 
experiment,  and  although  the  failure  of  the 
experiment  is  all  but  infinite,  it  is,  how- 
ever, no  greater  evil  than  may  come  to  be 
that  of  the  son,  who  in  the  exercise  of  his 
own  freedom  has  inertly  staid  at  home. 
This  corruption  of  heart  from  self-conceit, 
envy,  and  want  of  generous  sympathy,  is 
a deeper  and  subtler  evil  than  is  produced 
by  riotous  living  which,  wasting  his  pat- 
rimony and  reducing  him  to  the  husks 
which  the  swine  do  eat,  has  sooner  brought 
him  to  himself  (observe  that  expression), 
that  is,  to  self-knowledge  and  a contrite 
estimation  of  what  he  has  done.  So  that 
conscience  has  a cliai.ce  to  speak,  and 
remember,  that  “ in  the  Fathei’s  house  is 


Childhood. 


123 


enough  and  to  spare,”  and  he  resolves  to 
arise  and  go  to  his  Father  and  say,  “ Father 
I have  sinned  and  suffered  ; make  me  as 
one  of  thy  hired  servants,  for  I have  for- 
feited my  right  as  a son.”  How  docs 
the  Father  treat  the  case  ? Does  he  con- 
sider the  prodigal’s  presumptuous  sin 
total  depravity  ? Flas  he  ever  so  considered 
it?  Surely  not,  for  he  seems  to  have  been 
watching  for  this  moment  of  repentance, 
“ waiting  to  be  gracious.”  When  the 
prodigal  is  yet  afar  off,  he  rushes  to 
meet  him,  upbraiding  not,  embraces  him 
and  calls  for  the  best  robe  and  fatted  calf 
to  celebrate  the  reunion.  Here  we  see 
the  great  evil  that  can  transpire  from 
individualization  ; but  does  not  the  con- 
scious, free-willed  return,  add  something 
absolutely  to  spiritual  substance?  Is  not 
the  conscious,  intelligent  reunion  more 
than  was  the  original  unconscious  union? 
Is  not  growth  in  virtue  more  than  the  origi- 
nal innocence  of  the  child?  Even  that  in- 
nocence, we  must  remember,  is  not  a nega- 
tive quantity,  but  a positive  good,  — the 
sum  of  all  being  passive,  only  less  than 
virtue  which  is  active  holiness  ( whole- 
ness) ; the  sum  of  all  being  creative, 
the  son  on  his  Father’s  throne. 

And  with  respect  to  the  other  son  of  the 
parable,  who  has  been  idly  enjoying  his 
patrimony  without  separating  apparently 
from  his  Father,  whose  passive  innocence 
has  subsided  into  dead  inertia,  engender- 
ing fouler  miasma  than  can  riotous  living, 
which  at  least  is  an  exercise  of  the  free- 
will, though  a perverse  one,  not  an  abro- 
gation of  it.  But  does  the  Father  seem 
to  regard  even  that  as  total  depravity? 
On  the  contrary  he  earnestly  remonstrates, 
reminding  him  of  his  inalienable  claims  by 
birth-right,  — “all  that  I have  is  thine,” 
he  says,  and  assuming  that  the  divine 
germ  of  brotherhood  is  still  there  and 
perchance  asleep,  he  says  to  him : “ It 


is  meet  that  we  should  rejoice,  for  thy' 
brother  was  lost  and  is  found.” 

All  human  evil  is  covered  by  the  action 
and  inaction  of  -the  twro  sons  that  divide 
the  human  race.  We  see  the  direction  of 
love,  which  is  the  mind  and  head  in  equi- 
poise, perverted  on  the  one  hand,  and  on 
the  other  hand  the  stagnation  of  love  in  a 
stupid  inertia.  But  I do  not  see  in  this 
most  interesting  of  Christ’s  parables,  that 
there  is  any*-  suggestion  of  total  depravity 
or  everlasting  damnation ; and  here  we 
should  expect  to  find  these  doctiines,  if 
they  were  expressions  of  the  truth.  The 
gospel  of  good-news  has  apparently  no 
place  for  them. 

Miss  Peabody  ended  with  reading  some 
sentences  of  Froebel,  whom  she  named 
the  discoverer  of  childhood,  and  some 
passages  of  one  of  her  lectures  to  kinder- 
gartners,  describing  that  part  of  the 
earliest  life  of  childhood  in  which  it  is 
taking  possession  of  the  body  and  learning 
to  walk,  which  comprised,  she  thought, 
the  unconscious  part  of  her  teaching  of 
the  adult,  and  intimated  that  there  science 
should  gather,  but  had  not  yet  gathered, 
untold  treasures  of  wisdom  from  conver- 
sation with  young  children  — genially 
educated  by  a respectful  dealing  with 
them  and  assistance  proffered  in  respectful 
deference  to  their  irrefragable  free  will. 
She  recounted  the  great  apologues  of  the 
Sacred  Scriptures  of  Humanly  and  in- 
terpreted them  to  elucidate  her  theme  — 
namely,  the  historic  story  of  Abraham  and 
Isaac  ; of  the  childhood  of  Moses  ; of  that 
of  Samuel ; of  David  ; Isaiah’s  vision  of  the 
child  born  of  virgin  nature,  justified  in  full 
by  the  life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth ; the 
apologues  of  Christ’s  birth  ; and  the  myths 
of  the  birth  of  Buddha,  of  the  heroes  of 
Greece,  Asia  Minor  and  Rome,  of  Horns 
(the  Egyptian  civilization),  son  of  Isis 
(nature)  and  Osiris  (spirit). 


124 


Heading  from  Thoreau’’ s Manuscripts. 


READING  FROM  THOREAU’S  MANUSCRIPTS. 

BY  MR.  SANBORN. 


R.  SANBORN  read  from  the  first 
manuscript  which  Thoreau  offered 
for  publication,  except  his  essay  on  the 
Roman  poet  Persius.  It  is  probably  that 
rejected  and  criticised  by  Margaret  Fuller. 
It  is  signed  “ Henry  D.  Thoreau,”  and 
dated  July,  1840.  “The  Service;  Quali- 
ties of  the  Recruit,”  is  the  title.  Ex- 
tracts follow  : — 

“ The  brave  man  is  the  elder  son  of  crea- 
tion who  has  stepped  buoyantly  into  his 
inheritance,  while  the  coward,  who  is  the 
younger,  waiteth  patiently  for  his  decease. 
He  rides  as  wide  of  this  earth’s  gravity  as 
a star,  and  by  yielding  incessantly  to  all 
impulses  of  the  soul  is  drawn  upward  and 
becomes  a fixed  star.  His  bravery  con- 
sists not  so  much  in  resolute  action  as 
healthy  and  assured  rest.  Its  palmy  state 
is  a staying  at  home,  compelling  alliance 
in  all  directions.  So  stands  his  life  to 
heaven  as  some  fair  sunlit  tree  against  the 
western  horizon,  and  by  sunrise  is  planted 
on  some  eastern  hill  to  glisten  in  the  first 
rays  of  the  dawn.  The  brave  man  braves 
nothing,  nor  knows  he  of  his  bravery.  . . 

. . . He  does  not  present  the  gleaming 
edge  to  ward  off  harm,  for  that  will  often- 
est  attract  the  lightning,  but  rather  is  the 
all-pervading  ether,  which  the  lightning 
does  not  strike,  but  purifies.  It  is  the 
profanity  of  his  companion,  as  a flash 
across  the  face  of  his  sky,  which  lights  up 
and  reveals  its  serene  depth. 

“ A pyramid  some  artisan  may  measure 
with  his  line,  but  if  he  give  you  the  di- 
mensions of  the  Parthenon  in  feet  and 
inches,  the  figures  will  not  embrace  it  like 
a cord,  but  dangle  from  its  entablature 
like  an  elastic  drapery. 


“ The  golden  mean  in  ethics,  as  in  phys- 
ics, is  the  centre  of  the  system  and  that 
about  which  all  revolve,  and  though  to  a 
distant  and  plodding  planet  it  be  an  utter- 
nmst  extreme,  yet  one  day,  when  that 
planet’s  year  is  completed,  it  will  be  found 
to  be  central. 

“ The  coward  wants  resolution,  which  the 
brave  man  can  do  without.  He  recog- 
nizes no  faith  above  a creed,  thinking  this 
straw  by  which  he  is  moored  does  him 
good  service,  because  his  sheet  anchor 
does  not  drag. 

“ The  div  inity  in  man  is  the  true  vestal 
fire  of  the  temple  which  is  never  permitted 
to  go  out,  but  burns  as  steadily  and  with 
as  pure  a flame  on  the  obscure  provincial 
altar  as  in  Numa’s  temple  at  Rome.  In 
the  meanest  are  all  the  materials  of  man- 
hood, only  they  are  not  rightly  disposed. 

“ We  say  justly  that  the  weak  person  is 
flat,  for  like  all  flat  substances,  he  does 
not  stand  in  the  direction  of  his  strength, 
that  is,  on  his  edge^  but  affords  a conve- 
nient surface  to  put  upon.  He  slides  all 
the  way  through  life.  Most  things  are 
strong  in  one  direction,  a straw  longitudi- 
nally, a board  in  the  direction  of  its  edge, 
but  the  brave  man  is  a perfect  sphere, 
which  cannot  fall  on  its  flat  side  and  is 
equally  strong  every  way.  The  coward  is 
wretchedly  spheroidal  at  best,  too  much 
educated  or  drawn  out  on  one  side  and 
depressed  on  the  other,  or  maj-  be  likened 
to  a hollow  sphere,  whose  disposition  of 
matter  is  least  where  the  greatest  bulk  is 
intended.  We  shall  not  attain  to  be 
spherical  by  lying  on  one  or  the  other 
side  for  an  eternity,  but  only  by  resigning 
ourselves  implicitly  to  the  law  of  gravity 


125 


Reading  from  Thor  earns  Manuscripts. 


in  us  shall  we  find  our  axis  co-incident 
with  the  celestial  axis,  and  by  revolving 
incessantly  through  all  circles  acquire  a 
perfect  sphericity. 

“ It  is  not  enough  that  our  life  is  an  easv 
one.  We  must  live  on  the  stretch,  retir- 
ing to  our  rest  like  soldiers  on  the  eve-*of 
a battle,  looking  forward  with  ardor  to  the 
strenuous  sortie  of  the  morrow.” 

In  a letter  of  October  27,  1837,  when 
twenty  years  old,  Thoreau  wrote  to  his 
sister,  Helen  Thoreau  : — 

“ For  a man  to  »act  himself,  he  must 
be  perfectly  free ; otherwise  he  is  in 
danger  of  losing  all  sense  of  responsi- 
bility or  self-respect.  Now  when  such 
a state  of  things  exists  that  the  sacred 
opinions  one  advances  in  argument  are 
apologized  for  by  his  friends  before  his 
face,  lest  his  hearers  receive  a wrong 
impression  of  the  man,  when  such  gross 
injustice  is  of  frequent  occurrence,  where 
shall  we  look  and  not  look  in  vain  for 
men,  deeds,  thoughts?  As  well  apologize 
for  the  grape  that  it  is  sour,  or  the  thunder 
that  it  is  noisy,  or  the  lightning  that  it 
tarries  not.  Further,  letter- writing  too 
often  degenerates  into  a communing  of 
facts,  and  not  of  truths  ; of  other  men’s 
deeds,  and  not  of  our  thoughts.  What 
are  the  convulsions  of  a planet  compared 
with  the  emotions  of  the  soul,  or  the  rising 
of  a thousand  suns,  if  that  is  not  enlight- 
ened by  a ray?” 

Following  this  was  read  a Latin  letter 
which  Thoreau  wrote  to  his  sister,  together 
with  Mr.  Sanborn’s  translation.  Parts  of 
it  were  as  follows  : — 

“ Bulwer  is  to  me  a name  unknown,  one 
of  the  ignoble  crowd,  neither  to  be  contra- 
dicted nor  cited.  Yet  in  truth  I have 
some  favor  for  one  who  is  suffering  from 
the  disease  of  authorship  ....  If  you 
love  history  and  the  bold  exploits  of  he- 
roes, don’t  lay  Rollin  aside  nor  offend  Clio 
now  so  that  you  may  ask  her  forgiveness 
by  and  by.  What  Latin  books  do  you 
read,  — I say  read , not  study?  Happy  is 


he  who  can  turn  over  the  leaves  of  his 
books  and  peruse  them  often  without  fear 
of  an  urgent  taskmaster.  He  is  far  from 
hurtful'  idleness  and  can  invite  and  say 
farewell  to  his  friends  when  he  will.  A 
good  book  is  the  noblest  work  of  man. 
Hence  a reason  not  only  for  reading, 
but  for  writing  too It  will  do  pos- 

terity no  good  that  you  have  drawn  breath 
and  passed  through  life,  now  easily,  now 
with  hardship,  — but  to  have  had  thoughts 
and  especially  to  have  written  them  down, 
that  is  something.” 

Several  letters  were  written  home  to 
Concord  in  1843  from  Staten  Island.  In 
one  to  his  mother,  dated  August  29,  he 
wrote : — 

“ I have  tried  sundry  methods  of 
earning  money  in  the  city  of  late,  but 
without  success.  Have  rambled  into  every 
bookseller’s  or  publisher’s  house  and  dis- 
cussed their  affairs  with  them.  Some 
proposed  to  me  to  do  what  an  honest  man 
cannot.  Among  others  I conversed  with 
the  Harpers  to  see  if  they  cannot  find  me 
useful. to  them,  but  they  say  that  they  are 
making  fitly  thousand  dollars  annually, 
and  their  motto  is  to  let  well  alone.  I 
find  that  I talk  with  these  poor  men  as  if 
I was  over  head  and  ears  in  business  and 
a few  thousands  were  no  consideration 
with  me.” 

On  October  1 of  the  same  year  he 
wrote  : — 

“I  hold  together  remarkably  well  as 
yet,  speaking  of  my  outward  linen  and 
woollen  man,  no  holes  more  than  I brought 
away,  and  no  stitches  needed  3*et.  It  is 
marvellous.  I think  the  fates  must  be  on 
my  side,  for  there  is  less  than  a plank 
between  me  and  Time,  — to  say  the  least. 
As  for  Eldorado,  that  is  far  off  yet.  My 
bait  will  not  tempt  the  rats ; they  are 
too  well  fed.  The  ‘ Democratic  Review  ’ is 
poor,  can  only  afford  half  or  quarter  pay, 
which  it  will  do.  They  sajr  there  is  a 
‘ Lady’s  Companion  ’ that  pays,  but  I could 
| not  write  anything  companionable.  How- 


The  Oracles  of  New  England. 


1 26 


ever,  speculate  as  we  will,  it  is  only  gratu- 
itous ; life  never  the  less  and  never  the 
more  goes  steadily  on  ; Ave  shall  be  fed  and 
clothed  somehow,  ‘ honor  bright,’  withal. 
It  is  very  gratifying  to  live  in  the  prospect 
of  great  success  always,  and  for  that  pur- 
pose we  must  leave  sufficient  foreground 
to  see  that  through.  All  painters  prefer 
distant  prospects,  for  the  greater  breath  of 
view  and  delicacy  of  tint.” 

Several  poems  by  Thoreau  were  also 
read,  including  one  which  he  entitled 
“Inspiration,”  in  which  he  gave  his  ideas 


on  the  way  in  which  man  gained  his  knowl- 
edge, and  on  the  means  by  which  the  soul 
apprehends  the  outer  world.  This  is  a 
poem  of  Thoreau’s  but  little  known,  begin- 
ning — 

What’er  Ave  leave  to  God,  God  does 
* And  blesses  ns ; 

The  work  we  choose  shall  be  our  own, 

God  lets  alone. 

In  the  conversation  following  the  read- 
ing, reminiscences  of  Thoreau  were  given 
by  his  former  personal  acquaintances,  Mr. 
Alcott  and  Mr.  Sanborn. 


Sixteenth  Day,  — August  3. 


THE  ORACLES  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 

BY  MR.  SANBORN. 


rpHE  oracles  of  New  England,  said  Mr. 

Sanborn,  came  in  the  past  from  the 
churches  and  parsonage-houses  of  New 
England,  — where  the  godly  ministers 
amid  pOA’erty  and  toil  cherished  the  undy- 
ing flame  of  piety  and  aspiration.  It  was 
not  a material  fire  that  they  kept  up,  as  did 
the  servants  of  Apollo  at  Delphi — though 
there  \vas  too  much  need  of  that  also  in 
our  cruel  winters,  — which  made  Oliver 
Cromwell,  as  Roger  Williams  tells  us, 
“ look  on  New  England  only  with  an  eye 
of  pity,  as  poor,  cold  and  useless.”  But 
the  flame  of  zeal,  lighted  and  fed  by  the 
Puritans  on  this  barren  coast,  has  been 
more  effective  in  retaining  the  poor  people 
who  were  stranded  here,  than  was  Calyp- 
so’s fragrant  fire  of  cedar  and  frankincense 
in  her  enchanted  grotto,  surrounded  by 
murmuring  trees  and  flowery  meadows  — 
where  she  vainly  sought  to  hold  Ulysses 
her  colonist.  The  heavenly  messenger 
bade  him  depart,  but  forbade  our  forefa- 


thers to  abandon  their  wilderness  of  rocks 
and  snows.  Roger  Williams  in  1 636,  being, 
as  he  says,  “ driven  from  my  house  and 
land,  and  wife  and  children,  at  Salem,  in 
the  midst  of  a New  England  Avinter,  — at 
a hint  and  voice  from  God  Avaiving  all 
other  thoughts  and  motions,  I steered  my 
course  (though  in  winter  snow  which  I 
feel  yet,  some  35  years  after,)  to  these 
parts  (Providence)  Avherein.  I may  say,  I 
have  seen  the  face  of  God  ; ” and  where, 
indeed,  he  was  an  oracle  both  to  the  sav- 
ages who  depended  on  his  word,  and  to 
his  own  Christian  brethren,  whom  he  often 
saved  from  savage  atrocities.  It  was  an 
oracle  indeed,  but  an  unaArailing  one,  which 
in  1651  Williams  addressed  to  John  Endi- 
cott,  the  persecuting  governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts, warning  him  against  whipping 
Baptists  at  Boston  : — 

“Are  all  the  thousands  of  millions  of 
millions  of  consciences,  at  home  and 
abroad,  fuel  only  for  a prison,  for  a whip, 


The  Oracles  of  New  England. 


127 


for  a stake,  for  a gallows?  Are  no  con- 
sciences to  breathe  the  air  but  such  as  suit 
and  sample  yours?  Be  pleased,  then,  hon- 
ored sir,  to  remember  that  the  thing  which 
we  call  conscience  is  of  such  a nature  (es- 
pecially in  Englishmen)  that  though  it  be 
groundless,  false  and  deluded  ; yet  it  is 
not  by  any  arguments  or  torments  easily 
removed.  I speak  not  of  the  stream  of 
the  multitude  of  all  nations,  •which  have 
their  ebbings  and  flowings  in  religion,  as 
the  longest  sword  and  strongest  arm  of 
flesh  carries  it ; but  I speak  of  conscience , 
a persuasion  fixed  in  the  mind  and  heart  of 
a man,  which  enforceth  him  to  judge  and 
to  do.  This  conscience  is  found  in  all 
mankind,  more  or  less.  ’Tis  impossible 
for  any  man  or  men  to  maintain  their  Christ 
b}-  the  sword,  and  to  worship  a true  Christ ; 
to  fight  against  all  consciences  opposite  to 
theirs,  and  not  to  fight  against  God  in  some 
of  them.  It  is  a dreadful  voice  from  the 
King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords  : ‘ Endi- 
cott ! Endicott ! why  huntestthou  me?  why 
imprisonest  thou  me?  why  finest?  why  so 
bloodily  whippest?  why  wonkiest  thou  (did 
not  I hold  thy  bloody  hands)  hang  and 
burn  me  ? ’ ” 

This  noble  utterance  is  not  oracular  poe- 
try,— for  poetry  was  denied  to  these  early 
New  England  oracles,  — but  it  rises  from 
Greek  oracle  into  Hebrew  prophecy,  and  so 
raises  our  thoughts,  as  heroic  poetry  itself 
would.  In  1637  Williams,  “ being  solic- 
ited by  my  loving  friend,  Mr.  Buckley,” 
had  sent  to  our  Musketaquid  oracle  herein 
Concord,  the  Rev.  Peter  Bulkelej',  one  of 
his  intractable  pamphlets.  This  good  man, 
though  much  at  variance  with  some  of  the 
opinions  of  Williams,  had,  like  the  Rhode 
Island  planter,  a vein  of  oracular  piety, 
inspired  by  which  he  said  to  his  little  flock 
of  English  exiles,  in  Concord,  soon  after 
1637  : “ There  is  no  people  but  will  strive 
to  excel  in  something,  — what  can  we  excel 
in  but  in  holiness?  If  we  look  to  number, 
we  are  the  fewest ; if  to  strength,  we  are 
the  weakest ; if  to  wealth  and  riches,  we 


are  the  poorest  of  all  the  people  of  God 
through  the  whole  world.  We  cannot 
excel,  nor  so  much  as  equal,  other  people 
in  these  things  ; and  if  we  come  short  in 
grace  and  holiness  too,  we  are  the  most 
despicable  people  under  heaven.” 

Mr.  Sanborn  then  read  some  Latin 
verses  of  Bulkeley,  with  a translation ; 
quoted  from  Jonathan  Edwards,  John 
Woolman  and  Miss  Mary  Emerson,  and 
then  passed  over  the  Atlantic  to  consider 
the  oracular  poems  of  Goethe,  several  of 
which  he  read,  — among  them  Carlyle’s 
version  of  the  Earth-Song  in  Faust,  as  it 
stands  in  “Sartor  Resartus  — and  Ellery 
Channing’s  “ Hymn  of  the  Earth.”  From 
these  he  came  to  Wordsworth,  who  was  for 
more  than  half  his  lifetime  the  contempo- 
rary of  Goethe  and  yet  knew  little  more 
of  him  than  we  know  of  Zoroaster.  “ I 
would  have  you  listen  once  more  to  these 
oracular  verses  of  Wordsworth,”  said  Mr 
Sanborn,  “ for  a double  reason,  — because, 
like  Milton,  this  solemn  English  poet  has 
been  one  of  the  oracles  of  New  England — 
and  because  from  Wordsworth  and  from 
Goethe,  we  come  naturally  to  Emerson,  a 
higher  poet  than  either.  Better  than 
Wordsworth  he  has  kept  the  faith  of 
Wordsworth,  who  said  in  the  ‘ Pre- 
lude ’ : — 

‘ Be  mine  to  follow  with  no  timid  step 
Where  knowledge  leads  me  ; it  shall  be  my  pride 
That  I have  dared  to  tread  this  holy  ground, 
Speaking  no  dream , but  things  oracular  ; 

Matter  not  lightly  to  be  read  by  those 
Who  to  the  letter  of  the  outward  promise 
Do  read  the  invisible  soul.’ 

Yet  the  best  utterances  of  Wordsworth 
are  in  a high  strain,  and  of  more  variety, 
perhaps,  than  Emerson’s,  though  far  less 
than  the  world-embracing  inclusiveness  of 
Goethe.  Between  Wordsworth  and  Ger- 
many a great  gulf  was  fixed,  and  he  had 
little  patience  with  either  the  German  or 
the  Scottish  philosophers.” 

After  quoting  from  the  Ode  on  Immor- 
tality, he  said  that  in  this  whole  poem 


The  Oracles  of  JSFew  England. 


1 28 


Wordsworth,  — like  his  friend  Coleridge 
in  writing  that  singular,  melodious  frag- 
ment called  “ Ivubla  Khan,”  — seems  to 
have  composed  his  lines  amid  the  insights 
of  a dream  or  trance,  from  which  when  he 
awoke  he  could  neither  continue  the  compo- 
sition, nor  quite  understand  what  he  had 
written  down.  In  this  he  did  but  furnish 
a commentary  on  that  saying  of  Socrates 
in  the  Phaedrus,  which  concerns  the  insights 
of  poets  and  philosophers,  — what  he  calls 
the  third  and  fourth  kinds  of  madness  or 
inspiration  ; for  Plato  there  says  that  poets 
write  better  under  inspiration  than  when 
they  are  “lamentably  sane,”  as  Emerson 
once  said,  Plato  discourses  on  Beauty 
Eternal,  and  on  Love,  earthly  and  celes- 
tial, but  even  he  does  not  surpass  the 
oracular  wisdom  of  Emerson  in  his  won- 
derful Ode  to  Beauty,  which  was  read,  and 
also  the  poem  of  “ Uriel,”  beginning, — 

“ It  fell  in  the  ancient  periods 

That  the  brooding  soul  surveys, 

Or  ever  the  wild  Time  coined  itself 
Into  calendar  months  and  days.” 

It  is  possible  that  “ Uriel”  here  signifies 
that  bright  god  Asha  vista,  one  of  the 
seven  counsellors  of  the  Good  Spirit  in  the 
Persian  mythology,  but  the  name  is  taken 
from  Hebrew  mythology,  where  it  applies 
to  the  Angel  of  the  Sun,  as  Milton  makes 
him, — 

“ Uriel,  the  regent  of  the  Sun,  and  held 
The  sharpest-sighted  spirit  of  all  in  heaven.” 

This  is  the  Uriel  that  Allston  painted, 
sitting  in  the  sun  with  an  expression  of 
“ cherub  scorn  ” on  his  beautiful  face.  But 
Emerson’s  Uriel  is  an  angel  by  himself — 
a heavenly  counsellor  who  withdraws  from 
the  conclave  because  his  companions  have 
not  yet  fathomed  his  counsel,  and  therefore 
have  received  it  in  its  superficial  and  less 
moral  aspect. 

In  his  grand  poem  of  “ The  Sphinx” — 
which  is  the  epic  of  world-history  — short 
as  it  is,  — and  also  the  best  epitome  of 
philosophy,  — Emerson  carries  the  doctrine 


of  Uriel  further,  and  shows  how  it  harmo- 
nizes with  the  laws  that  govern  the  uni- 
verse. The  Sphinx,  chief  person  in  this 
ballad-epic,  is  no  longer  the  Boeotian  mon- 
ster who  threatened  to  destroy  Thebes,  nor 
yet  the  Egyptian  goddess  whose  huge 
image, — 

“ Pedestaled  haply  in  a palace  court, 
When  sages  looked  to  Egypt  for  their  lore,” 

still  confronts  the  pilgrim  amid  those  sands. 
Emerson’s  Sphinx  is  the  mundane  soul,  a 
sort  of  Demiurgus,  but  a feminine  and  com- 
passionate one — ready  to  confess,  too,  that 
“ the  riddle  of  the  painful  earth  ” has  been 
duly  guessed,  when  the  wise  poet  comes 
along  and  opens  it. 

Speaking  of  “The  Sphinx”  in  compar- 
ison with  “ Brahma,”  Mr.  Sanborn  said  : 
“ Out  of  that  poem  you  can  only  unfold  by 
evolution  a certain  number  of  meanings  — 
a certain  form  of  the  Totality  ; but  ‘ The 
Sphinx’  has  implied  in  it  the  Totality  it- 
self, so  far  as  this  world  of  man  is  con- 
cerned. I expect  to  live  long  enough  to 
see  professorships  established,  even  at  Har- 
vard and  Yale,  to  explain  this  poem,  as 
professors  have  for  so  many  centuries  been 
explaining  Plato’s  Timams  and  Aristotle’s 
work  on  the  Soul.” 

Passing  then  to  a criticism  on  Emerson 
as  a poet,  the  lecturer  said  in  substance  that 
Herman  Grimm,  the  German  critic,  assigns 
very  high  rank  to  Emerson  when  he  allows 
him  to  be  compared  with  Shakespeare,  with 
Schiller  and  with  Goethe.  Emerson’s  rank 
must  be  ven-  high.  He  was  Persian  rather 
than  Greek,  English  or  American.  He  was 
allied  to  the  great  Zoroaster  and  the  far- 
shooting,  truth-speaking  Parthians.  He 
was  Persian  in  his  build  of  body  and  mind, 
— slender,  agile  and  active,  not  broad  and 
massive.  He  was  Oriental  both  in  activity 
and  repose  ; fitted  alike  for  society  and 
solitude.  No  man  lived  more  publicly  nor 
yet  more  retired.  He  withdrew  into  him- 
self without  asceticism  or  hauteur.  But  he 
had  a Yankee  side  to  his  nature,  and  has 


Individualism. 


129 


done  his  part  in  establishing  our  national- 
ity. By  him  our  country  first  declared  her 
independence  of  England  in  philosophy 
and  letters,  as  she  had  already  declared  her 
independence  in  politics  by  Washington, 
Adams,  Jefferson  and  Franklin.  Individ- 
ual freedom  breathes  in  his  writings,  and 
to  him  American  literature  owes  much  of 
its  small  and  precious  wealth.  Where  then 
shall  Emerson  be  placed?  Even  when 
most  philosophic  he  is  purely  poetic,  and 
while  he  lacks  creative  power  in  verse,  he 
carries  with  him  the  atmosphere  and  light 
of  poetry.  Since  Milton  and  Spenser  no 
man  has  equalled  Emerson  in  this  respect. 


There  is  that  in  him  which  puts  us  on  the 
highest  levels  of  the  soul.  The  region 
which  this  pure  and  manly  intelligence  in- 
habits is  ideal,  but  not  unreal.  Emerson 
raises  earth  to  the  level  of  divine  philoso- 
phy. He  followed  closely  his  own  law  for 
the  perfect  bard  laid  down  in  “ Merlin  ” : 

He  shall  not  seek  to  weave, 

In  weak,  unhappy  times, 

Efficacious  rhymes ; — 

Wait  his  returning  strength,  — 

Bird  that  from  the  nadir’s  floor 
To  the  zenith’s  top  can  soar, 

The  soaring  orbit  of  the  Muse  exceeds  that 
journey’s  length.” 


INDIVIDUALISM. 

BY  MR.  ALCOTT. 


INDIVIDUALITY  is  a separation  from 
a oneness  with  God  — a becoming  di- 
vided from  Him — and  wilfully  pursuing 
the  path  that  leads  away  from  Him.  Our 
personality,  on  the  other  hand,  is  that  by 
which  we  are  united  with  God.  The  fol- 
lowing passage  from  a Persian  poet  illus- 
trates the  difference  between  individuality 
and  personality  : — 

“ One  knocked  at  the  Beloved’s  door,  and  a 
voice  asked  from  within,  ‘ Who  is  there?’  and 
he  answered,  1 It  is  I.’  Then  the  voice  said, 
‘This  house  wall  not  hold  me  and  thee.’  And 
the  door  was  not  opened.  Then  went  the  Lov- 
er into  the  desert  and  fasted  and  prayed  in 
solitude,  aud  after  a year  he  returned  and 
knocked  again  at  the  door,  and  again  the  voice 
asked,  ‘ Who  is  there?’  And  he  said,  ‘It  is  thy- 
self,’ and  the  door  was  opened.” 

The  first  comer  is  the  individual ; the  sec- 
ond, the  personal ; and  all  mankind  in  their 
general  characteristics  can  be  classed  under 
these  two  terms.  So  far  as  the  divine  love 
is  present  we  are  personal ; so  far  as  it  is 
not  present,  we  do  not  harmonize  with 
others  or  build  any  lasting  institutions. 


Individuality  separates  and  distracts  and 
leads  to  extremes. 

Osiris  and  Typhos  were  brothers  born  of 
the  same  parents,  but  their  heavenly  he- 
redity was  as  diverse  as  the  poles.  There 
is  human  heredity  and  divine  heredity. 
Those  whom  we  call  brothers  aud  sisters 
may  have  no  fraternity  of  soul.  Osiris 
was  desirous  of  learning,  obedient  to  his 
father,  anxious  for  all  wisdom.  He  rever- 
enced his  elders  and  loved  the  welfare  of 
man.  He  was  born  of  a noble  spirit- 
ual ancestry.  Typhos  was  perverse  in 
everything.  He  hated  and  ridiculed 
knowledge  and  looked  upon  his  brother  as 
a coward  because  he  did  not  strike  those 
who  struck  him.  He  was  drunken  and 
licentious.  He  was  a manifold  evil, — emi- 
nently an  individual.  He  was  violent  in 
his  passions,  and  especially  hated  every- 
body who  loved  his  brother.  The  two 
grew  farther  and  farther  apart.  The  one 
represents  personality,  or  the  aiming  to 
be  one  with  God  and  to  do  His  will ; the 
other  individuality,  or  the  path  of  sep- 


r3° 


Individualism. 


avation  from  God  and  Ilis  will.  The 
love  of  beauty,  of  truth  and  of  good 
constitutes  the  Godhead,  and  when  we 
enter  the  human  form  this  love  comes 
with  us.  But  our  wills  are  free,  and  we 
can  either  follow  this  trinity  of  beauty, 
good  and  truth,  or  we  can  depart  from  it. 
It  is  our  spiritual  heredity.  But  our  hu- 
man heredity  cramps  and  restricts  us, 
and  from  this  we  must  free  ourselves. 
Through  our  reason  we  seek  the  truth, 
through  our  conscience  the  good,  and 
through  our  imagination  the  beautiful. 
And  so  far  as  we  partake  of  these  we  are 
personal.  When  we  die,  our  individuality 
is  cast  off  and  our  personal^  remains. 
When  we  see  the  right  and  refuse  to  do  it, 
we  are  sinners.  We  become  two  instead 
of  one.  Hence  the  senses  become  ob- 
scured, the  reason  dimmed,  and  the  con- 
science seared.  The  consequences  of  per- 
sisting in  our  individuality  are  isola- 
tion and  complete  separation  from  all  our 
race  and  from  society.  At  the  same  door 
enters  passion  or  genius.  Whoever  tempts 
the  Sphinx  shall  be  straightway  devoured. 
The  Sphinx  is  life,  and  whosoever  tempts 
life  must  be  overthrown  in  the  contest. 

Individuality  is  egotism.  The  individ- 
ual sees  only  himself,  like  Narcissus  look- 
ing in  the  pool.  AVe  cannot  cut  ourselves 
off  from  all  human  interests  and  live  alone. 
No  society  established  on  that  basis  has 
ever  succeeded.  This  is  the  fallen  man. 
The  unfallen  soul  has  only  one  will ; it  is 
single.  But  how  shall  we  be  helped  out 
of  this  pit  when  we  once  have  fallen  ? AVe 
must  be  born  again.  We  must  seize  hold 
of  this  threefold  strand  of  truth,  beauty 
and  goodness,  and  draw  ourselves  upward 
again. 

Our  individuality  must  not  be  confound- 
ed with  our  differentiation  — that  which 
distinguishes  us  from  other  persons.  It  is 
our  separateness  from  good  and  truth  and 
beauty.  It  is  the  attribute  of  Satan,  who 
isolates  himself  from  God  and  surrounds 
himself  with  a hell  of  denial  and  evil,  of 


oppositeness  to  the  highest.  As  we  obej' 
the  law  of  our  spirits,  or  as  we  are  per- 
sonal, we  gain  and  create  all  good  ; as  we 
disobey  this  law,  we  obtain  and  create  all 
evil.  Individualism  brings  men  into  oppo- 
sition with  the  divine  will,  and  only  as  it  is 
broken  down  is  there  harmony.  Mr.  Al- 
cott  dwelt  upon  the  collisions  in  the  family, 
in  institutions  of  learning,  in  the  state  and 
in  the  church  which  are  caused  by  the  efforts 
of  individualism  to  assert  itself.  He  also 
spoke  of  the  different  temperaments  as  en- 
tering into  the  question  of  individualism, 
and  of  their  influence  upon  the  life.  In- 
fluences are  often  inherited  which  form  a 
factor  of  individualism.  Apropos  of  the 
different  temperaments,  he  read  the  follow- 
ing from  an  old  English  poet  : — 

“ Some  whom  we  call  virtuous,  are  not  so 
In  their  whole  substance,  but  their  virtues 
grow 

But  in  their  humors,  and  at  seasons  show'. 

For  when  through  tasteless,  flat  humility, 

In  dough-baked  men  some  harmlessness  we 
see, 

’Tis  but  his  phlegm  that ’s  virtuous,  and  not 
he. 

So  is  the  blood  sometimes  : whoever  ran 
To  danger  unimportuned,  he  was  then 
No  better  than  a sanguine,  virtuous  man. 

So  cloistered  men,  who,  on  pretence  of  fear 
All  contributions  to  this  world  forbear, 

Have  virtue  in  melancholy,  and  only  there. 

Spiritual,  choleric  critics,  who  in  all 
Religions  find  fault,  and  forgive  no  fall, 

Have  through  their  zeal  virtue  but  in  their 

gall. 

We’re  thus  but  parcel  gilt;  to  gold  we’re 
grown 

When  virtue  is  our  soul’s  complexion  — 

Who  knows  his  virtue’s  name  or  place  has 
none.” 

Mr.  Alcott  then  showed  how  individual- 
ism may  result  in  “ come-outerism,”  and  in 
other  extremes  of  no  value  to  the  race  and 
of  pain  to  the  individuals. 


The  Philosophy  of  Peligion  and  the  Law  of  the  Supernatural.  131 


Seventeenth  Dat,  — August  T. 


THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  AND  THE  LAW  OF  THE 

SUPERNATURAL. 

BY  DR.  JONES. 


O AYS  Aristotle  : “ Beings  are  unwilling 
^ to  be  governed  ill,”  and  “ the  domina- 
tion of  many  is  not  good  ; there  is  there- 
fore one  Supreme.  The  First  Princi- 
ple, the  First  Being  is  immutable,  both 
essentially  and  according  to  accident. 
But  he  moves  the  first,  the  eternal,  the 
universal  motion.  But  such  things  as 
are  connected  with  matter  are  many  in 
number,  but  that  which  ranks  as  first 
among  formal  causes  is  not  connected 
with  matter ; for  it  subsists  in  energy. 
Hence  that  which  first  moves,  itself  im- 
movable, is  one,  both  in  reason  and  num- 
ber, and  consequently  that  -which  is  always 
and  continually  moved  is  also  one.  There 
is  therefore,  also,  only  one  universe.” 

One  Mover,  one  motion,  whose  primal 
irradiations,  sometimes  called  the  Platonic 
ideas,  are  the  sources  of  all  motion,  and 
all  energy,  and  all  truth,  and  all  beaut}', 
and  all  love,  and  all  good,  and  all  order, 
and  all  justice,  and  all  law.  And  here  in 
this  celestial  summit  alone  shall  we  behold 
the  law  of  all  laws,  the  First  Mover  of  all 
motion.  Hence  and  wherefore  these  prin- 
ciples or  ideas  are  universals.  Hence  do 
thej'  pervade  the  universe,  and  hence  do 
ideas  rule.  And  in  mind,  in  spirit,  are 
the  potentialities  of  the  world  and  not  in 
matter. 

All  the  ages  of  thought  illustrate  the 
collision  of  two  opposing  opinions,  which 
predicate  first  cause  or  beginning  on  the 
one  hand  of  the  natural  orders  and  on  the 
other  hand,  of  the  supernatural.  This  op- 
position of  opinion  has  its  root  and  differ- 


ence in  the  two  consciousnesses  respect- 
ively in  the  constitution  of  the  soul,  viz., 
the  consciousness  of  the  sensible  sphere 
with  its  content  and  mental  outlook  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  consciousness  of  the  sup- 
ersensible sphere  with  its  content  and  out- 
look, on  the  other  hand.  These  two  types 
of  thought  must  have  existed  always  in 
the  world  of  mind  and  they  are  related  as 
the  centripetal  and  centrifugal  forces  in 
the  world  of  matter,  necessary  to  preserve 
the  equilibrium  of  the  forces  in  the  world 
in  its  circulations.  These  two  types  of 
mind,  or  of  mental  phenomena,  are  respect- 
ively sufficiently  characterized  and  dis- 
tinguished as  the  physicist  and  the  idealist. 
The  former  invalidates  the  ideal  and  ex- 
alts the  physical  to  primordiality  and 
monism.  The  latter  co-ordinates  the  ac- 
tual and  exalts  the  ideal  into  primordiality. 
The  one  constitutes  the  physical  school,  and 
the  other  the  metaphysical  school  of  the 
world’s  philosophies,  ancient  and  modern, 
from  the  Ionics  to  Herbert  Spencer  on 
the  one  hand  and  from  the  Eleatics  to 
Emerson  on  the  other.  Anciently  and 
now7,  and  henceforth  as  well,  in  accordance 
with  the  affirmations  of  all  the  great  ages 
of  faith  and  philosophy,  the  human  mind 
postulates  of  the  world  two  ranges  of  ex- 
istence, namely,  the  natural  and  the  super- 
natural, the  physical  and  the  metaphysical, 
the  sensible  and  the  intelligible,  the  sen- 
sibly visible  and  the  sensibly  invisible, 
the  one  cognized  and  identified  as  entity 
by  mind  in  spiritual  vision,  by  mind 
standing  in  the  illuminated  summits,  the 


i,}  i The  Philosophy  of  Religion  and  the  Law  of  the  Supernatural. 


other  perceived  and  believed  to  be  reality 
by  mind  in  sensuous  vision,  mind  standing- 
in  hollows  and  flats  of  the  world. 

Man  individually  must  realize  existence 
most  truly  and  beneficently  through  the 
use  of  both  these  orders  of  faculties, 
spiritual  and  sensuous  or  natural,  exer- 
cised in  due  proportion.  And  so  also 
must  human  society  realize  its  noblest 
fruitions  by  means  and  use  of  both  these 
orders  of  faculties.  All  human  histoiy, 
with  the  sciences  and  arts  and  religions 
and  philosophies  of  human  society,  com- 
prehends in  its  genesis  the  service  of 
both  these  functionaries,  the  abstract 
realistic  or  “natural”  mind  and  the 
idealistic  mind,  the  energies  of  the  natural 
man  and  the  energies  of  the  spiritual  man. 
The  world’s  thought,  and  the  world’s 
work,  and  the  world’s  social  fabrication 
could  not  be  done  with  either  of  these 
forces  alone  without  the  other.  If  we 
would  know  either  and  justify  either,  we 
must  know  and  justify  them  both  at  once, 
as  they  are  co-ordinated  and  correlated  in 
then'  practical  unity  in  the  social  constitu- 
tion. 

Human  life  depends  from  the  spiritual 
world  and  is  conditioned  in  the  natural 
world.  Humanity  must  have,  therefore, 
its  two  priesthoods,  — its  priesthood  in 
the  temple  of  nature  and  its  priesthood  in 
the  temple  of  the  spirit.  The  public  be- 
lief and  trust  in  the  one  and  in  the  other 
constitute  the  dual  and  valid  foundations 
and  effect  the  superstructure  of  civil  so- 
ciety in  every  generation.  Mankind  are 
distributed  and  devoted  socially  in  their 
several  different  functions  by  innate  genius, 
and  that  means  by  Providence  Divine. 
This  is  still  the  fundamental  principle  in 
the  constitution  and  maintenance  of  civil 
society,  viz.,  civil  society  exists  not  with- 
out productive  toil  and  commerce  and 
military  defence  and  education  and  gov- 
ernment. These  are  still  born  into  the 
world  from  the  foot  of  Brahma,  and  from 
the  thigh  of  Brahma,  and  from  the  arm  of 


Brahma,  and  from  the  mouth  of  Brahma. 
They  are  all  born  of  Brahma  unto  their 
respective  functions.  It  yet  remains  to  be 
seen  whether  modern  democratic  schemes 
shall  improve  or  mar  the  divine  order  in 
the  constitution  of  the  social  fabric  and 
its  actual  working.  Society  and  history 
require  at  the  hands  of  these  priesthoods 
their  respective  functions  and  that  each 
should  know  and  mind  its  own  business, 
and  that  each  should  confess,  and  respect 
and  honor  the  business  of  the  other. 
Either  is  heretical  and  false  in  postulating 
enmity  between  religion  and  science. 

Eternity  and  time  are  correlates.  Time 
is  but  the  movable  image  of  eternity. 
Eternity  has  no  motion,  no  process,  no 
existence,  but  as  the  expanses  and  motions 
and  changes  called  time.  Eternity  with 
all  its  content  of  spiritual  essence  and 
form,  and  time  with  its  content  of  nature 
and  physics  and  matter  are  mere  aspects 
of  one  system.  When  we  are  in  the  act 
of  existence,  we  are  related  to  both  at 
the  same  time.  We  do  not  now  exist 
abstractly  in  time,  nor  shall  we  ever  exist 
abstractly  in  eternity.  Existence  must 
comprehend  them  both  as  aspects  of  one 
whole. 

The  Creator  himself  cannot  be  cognized 
and  contemplated  in  the  thought  of  man 
as  an  abstraction,  as  separate  and  apart 
from  his  creatures  ; nor  can  the  forms  of 
the  creations  be  cognized  and  understood 
wheu  contemplated  apart  as  abstract  and 
separated  from  the  Creator.  Especially 
must  this  be  seen  by  those  who  see  that 
the  Creator  creates  all  things  simulta- 
neously forever  and  not  in  measures  of 
temporal  succession.  The  unity  of  the 
mind  and  will  of  the  Creator  with  the 
forms  and  laws  of  the  created  must  be  a 
unity  of  the  two,  and  not  an  annihilation 
of  either  one  in  the  other.  Therefore  the 
distinguishment  of  each  from  the  other  is 
a prerequisite  to  the  true  thought  of  their 
unity  All  thinking,  conditioned  in  the 
relinquishment  of  either  term  or  side  of 


The  Philosophy  of  Religion  and  the  Law  o f the  Supernatural.  133 


this  duality,  is  sophistical  in  its  character, 
one-sided  in  its  view,  incomprehensive 
and  so  without  content  of  truth.  So  also 
of  the  mind  of  God  and  of  the  laws  of  na- 
ture. Thejr  must  be  comprehended  in 
their  unity,  in  their  concreteness.  Either 
alone,  either  as  an  abstraction  from  the 
other,  is  untruthful  and  contentless. 

Religion  and  science,  divinity  and  na- 
ture, primary  and  secondary  causes  must 
be  distinguished  and  comprehended  in 
their  unity,  in  their  concreteness.  The 
ground  and  reason  of  all  existence,  the 
ends  and  purposes  and  determinations  of 
existence  are  purely  in  the  realm  of 
thought  and  mind  and  cannot  be  found  in 
the  objective  world.  There  are  no  natu- 
ral forces.  All  natural  substances  and 
materialities  of  whatsoever  sort  are  with- 
out form  or  motion,  or  thought  or  feeling, 
or  disposition  toward  any  form  of  order  or 
arrangement.  Hence,  also,  Nature  legis- 
lates not  and  there  are  no  natural  laws. 
Only  being  moves  from  within  itself. 
Only  entity  moves  and  thinks  and  feels, 
and  so  what  and  whence  are  forces, 
powers,  but  as  cognized  to  be  predicates 
of  will,  mind,  thought.  The  sphere  or  as- 
pect of  the  universe  denominated  spiritual, 
mental,  is  the  vital  sphere,  and  its  proc- 
esses and  determinations  are  the  vital 
forces,  and  these  vital  forces  are  the  laws 
and  forces  of  nature.  The  substance  of 
this  sphere  is  spirit,  as  the  substance  of 
the  other  is  matter. 


Dr.  Jones  continued  in  this  train  of 
thought,  advancing  the  idea  that  all  politi- 
cal and  social  institutions  have  force  only 
as  long  as  the  public  mind  and  will  are 
expressed  and  abide  in  them.  Institutions 
not  vitalized  by  the  mind  which  produced 
them  are  as  dead  as  dust.  The  essential 
forms  in  the  universe,  the  motion,  order 
and  harmony  are  but  the  energies  and 
impress  of  the  Divine  will  unto  the  form 
of  the  Divine  idea  and  thought.  The 
handiwork  of  the  Creator  is  the  adumbra- 
tion and  effigy  of  his  thought  and  pur- 
pose. 

The  concluding  portion  of  the  lecture 
was  as  follows  : In  the  light  and  view  of 

that  school  of  thought,  life,  mind,  soul, 
intelligence,  will,  have  another  paternity 
than  nature’s  physics.  In  this  thought  of 
the  universe,  nature  is  that  which  is  pro- 
duced, that  which  is  begotten  and  not 
that  which  begets.  The  eventualities  of 
history  all  have  their  parentage  in  the  un- 
seen powers.  Each  and  every  generation 
of  mind  constituting  the  great  measures 
of  history,  has  its  fountain  and  form  in  its 
idea  of  Deity.  And  this  idea  is  contained 
in  some  special  form  of  incarnation  and 
its  accompanying  dispensation  by  oracles. 
And  from  this  idea  and  fountain  all  their 
social  institutions  of  church  and  state, 
their  sciences  and  arts,  and  law's  and  man- 
ners and  customs,  receive  their  type  and 
determination. 


i34  Schell  in g's  Relations  to  Kant  and  Fichte. 


SCHELLING’S  RELATIONS  TO  KANT  AND  FICHTE. 

BY  PROFESSOR  JOHN  WATSON,  LL.  D. , F.R.S.C.1 


TT  has  been  said  with  some  truth  that 
Schelling  issued  new  treatises  on  phi- 
losophy as  he  received  new  light ; hence  his 
life  may  be  separated  into  three  phases. 
First  came  the  “ storm  and  stress”  period, 
in  which  he  refused  to  admit  the  reality  of 
a Supreme  Being  other  thau  the  moral  or- 
der of  the  world.  Then  came  the  second 
phase,  in  which  man  and  nature  were  re- 
garded as  two  co-ordinate  manifestations  of 
a single  activity  that  was  revealed  in  each 
with  equal  clearness  and  perfection. 
Thirdly  came  the  crowning  stage,  in  which 
the  attempt  was  made  to  prove  the  per- 
sonality of  God  while  preserving  the  moral 
responsibility  of  man  as  maintained  before. 
There  is  no  break  in  the  continuity  of 
Schelling’s  philosophy.  In  his  first  period 
he  has  grasped  with  great  clearness  the 
principle  of  human  freedom,  however  blind 
he  may  be  to  its  ultimate  implications.  In 
the  second  stage,  without  letting  go  the 
freedom  and  responsibility  of  man,  he  has 
discovered  that  nature  is  the  expression  of 
rational  processes,  and  that  man  and  nature 
are  alike  the  expression  of  “ something 
not  themselves.” 

Schelling’s  philosophy,  to  be  perfectly 
frank,  is  in  large  measure  a failure,  but  it 

1 John  Watson,  M.  A.,  LL.D.,  F.  R.  S.  C , was  born 
February  25,  1847,  in  Glasgow,  Scotland.  He  entered 
Glasgow  University  in  1866,  and  graduated  as  M.  A.  with 
tirst-class  honors  in  mental  and  moral  philosophy  in  1872, — 
the  year  in  which  he  was  appointed  to  the  chair  of  moral 
philosophy  in  Queen’s  University,  Kingston,  Canada.  He 
received  the  honorary  degree  of  LL.D.  from  his  Alma 
Mater  in  1880,  and  was  nominated  a Fellow  of  the  Royal 
Society  of  Canada  in  1881.  He  is  the  author  of  pamphlets 
on  “The  Relations  of  Philosophy  and  Science”  (1872),  and 
“Education  arid  Life”  (1873)  ; also  of  the  following  articles 
in  the  “Canadian  Monthly”:  “Science  and  Religion” 
(May,  1876) ; “ Darwinism  and  Morality  ” (October,  1876); 
Professor  Tyndall’s  Materialism”  (March,  1878);  “A 
Phase  of  Modern  Thought”  (November,  1879);  also  of  the 
following  articles  in  the  “Journal  of  Speculative  Philoso- 
phy”: “Empiricism  and  Common  Logic”  (N,  17); 


is  oue  of  those  failures  which  are  more  sig- 
nificant than  the  petty  successes  of  others. 
He  shows  the  transition  from  Kant  to  He- 
gel through  Fichte.  Professor  Watson 
then  passed  in  detailed  review  the  philo- 
sophies of  Kant  and  Fichte,  reaching  the 
conclusion  that  subsequent  speculation 
concerning  the  unity  of  subject  and  object 
must  attempt  to  get  a clearer  and  deeper 
view  of  the  realities  of  mind,  the  world 
and  the  absolute. 

In  Schelling’s  first  work,  published  in 
1794,  “ The  Possibility  of  a Form  of  Philos- 
ophy in  General,”  he  followed  pretty  closely 
Fichte’s  “ Idea  of  Philosophy.”  His  only 
claim  to  originality  in  it  is  that  he  attempts 
to  deduce  from  the  three  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  Fichte’s  philosophy  not  only 
Kant’s  categories  of  quality,  but  those  of 
quantit}’  and  modality  also.  In  1794,  also, 
appeared  his  treatise,  “ The  I as  the  Prin- 
ciple of  Philosophy.”  His  aim  here  was  to 
show  that  the  I,  or  intelligence,  is  the  su- 
preme or  unconditioned  ultimate  in  human 
knowledge.  He  traces  back  the  results  of 
the  critical  philosophy  to  the  ultimate  prin- 
ciples of  all  knowledge,  refusing  to  be 
bound  by  the  mere  letter  of  Kant’s  sys- 
tem. The  supreme  principle  is  not  sub- 

“ Kant’s  Reply  to  Hume  ” (X,  113) ; “ Hedonism  and  Util: 
tarianism  ” (X,  271) ; “ Relativity  of  Knowledge  ” (XI,  19 
“The  World  as  Force”  (XII,  113,  XIII,  151);  “Kant’s 
Principles  of  Judgment  ” (XII,  376) ; “ The  Critical  Philo- 
sophy in  its  Relations  to  Realism  and  Sensationalism  ” 
(XV,  337)  ; also  of  the  following  books:  “Kant  and  his 
English  Critics,  a Comparison  of  Critical  and  Empirical 
Philosophy  ” (New  York  : Macmillan  & Co.)  and  “ &chel- 
ling’s Transcendental  Idealism  ” (in  Griggs’s  Philosophical 
Classics).  Professor  Watson  is  at  present  engaged  in  the 
composition  of  a work  on  psychology. 

The  synopses  of  Professor  Watson’s  lectures  contained 
in  this  volume  give  some  idea  of  the  topics  discussed  more 
fully  and  completely  in  the  work  just  published  by  S.  C. 
Griggs  & Co.,  in  their  series  of  German  Philosophical 
Classics. 


Schelling'’ s Relations  to  Kant  and  Fichte. 


x35 


ject  nor  object,  but  that  which  is  the  condi- 
tion of  both,  the  pure  or  absolute  Ego, 
which  can  never  be  an  object  of  knowl- 
edge, but  which  establishes  its  reality  in 
and  through  itself.  This  absolute  Ego 
cannot  be  thought,  but  only  perceived  or 
contemplated  by  the  organ  which  Fichte 
well  names  “intellectual  perception.” 
We  have  not  immediate  knowledge  or  con- 
sciousness of  the  absolute  Ego.  In  it 
there  is  complete  identity  of  possibility 
and  actuality.  The  absolute  Ego  is  to  the 
iinite  Ego  an  ideal  to  be  realized.  Approx- 
imation to  this  idea  is  possible  to  man, 
because  he  is  identical  in  nature  with  the 
absolute  Ego,  and  herein  consists  his  prac- 
tical freedom. 

Schelling  brings  into  clear  relief  Fichte’s 
opposition  of  the  absolute  and  finite  Ego, 
making  it  appear  that  all  finite  individuals 
are  in  some  sense  but  modes  of  an  intelli- 
gence w'hich  manifests  itself  in  them,  but 
is  somehow  distinct  from  them.  Schelling 
denies  the  “ thing  in  itself,”  and,  opposing 
the  object  to  the  subject  more  strongly 
than  Fichte,  seeks  in  the  absolute  Ego  for 
the  unity  which  is  to  reconcile  them. 
The  reason  why  the  supreme  principle 
cannot  be  found  in  the  finite  self  is  mainly 
that  that  self  exists  only  as  conscious  of  an 
object  and  such  consciousness,  as  implying 
distinction,  necessarily  involves  limitation. 
If  we  follow  out  this  idea  we  shall  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  true  absolute  is 
to  be  sought  in  an  abstract  identity  which 
excludes  all  distinctions.  Schelling  was 
veiy  far  from  intending  such  a result,  and 
his  theory  contains  a principle  utterly  dis- 
crepant from  it,  but  we  have  here  the  germ 
of  the  theory  that  the  true  absolute  is  to 
be  found  in  a complete  indifference  of 
subject  and  object. 

In  the  same  year,  Schelling’s  “ Letters 
on  Dogmatism  and  Criticism  ” were  pub- 
lished. Dogmatism  and  criticism  were 
considered  in  their  bearing  on  the  inde- 
pendent existence  of  the  “objective” 
Cod.  It  was  meant  as  a counterblast 


against  the  followers  of  Kant  who  were 
seeking  to  convert  the  critical  philosophy 
into  a dogmatism  of  a w'orse  kind  than 
that  from  which  Kant  had  set  out  to  free 
the  minds  of  men.  The  attempt  to  base 
morality  on  a pure  hypothesis  Schelling 
denounced  as  neither  Kantian  nor  rational. 
The  ultimate  ground  of  subject  and  object 
must  be  either  the  absolute  subject  or 
absolute  object.  As  the  theoretical  reason 
moves  only  within  the  realm  where  subject 
and  object  are  opposed,  it  can  give  no  an- 
swer to  the  problem.  Dogmatism  cannot 
be  refuted  by  criticism  so  long  as  both 
remain  within  the  sphere  of  knowledge. 
So  the  battle  must  be  carried  into  the 
sphere  of  action  and  determined  there. 
The  absolute  identity  of  subject  and  object 
is  the  goal  of  human  progress.  To  negate 
the  object  and  to  negate  the  subject  are  at 
bottom  the  same  thing,  for  in  either  case 
the  personal  disappears.  The  main  ad- 
vance beyond  Fichte  in  this  work  consists 
in  the  conception  of  dogmatism  as  incap- 
able of  refutation  by  criticism,  except 
within  the  sphere  of  practical  reason. 

In  1796  and  1797  appeared  in  Fichte’s 
and  Niethammer’s  Journal  four  articles, 
which  complete  Schelling’s  work  while 
apprentice  to  Fichte.  In  the  first  he  show  s 
that  the  ordinary  interpretation  of  Kant 
completely  misrepresents  his  real  meaning. 
In  the  second  article  he  shows  further  how 
this  is  done.  In  virtue  of  freedom  a 
self-conscious  being  is  free  to  abstract 
itself  from  what  it  has  perceived,  and  so 
arises  consciousness  of  an  object.  It  fol- 
lows that  reality  cannot  be  explained  from 
the  point  of  view  of  consciousness.  Fur- 
ther, since  consciousness  of  an  object  is 
possible  only  in  contrast  to  free  activity 
and  the  consciousness  of  free  activity  only 
in  contrast  to  an  object,  to  those  at  the 
point  of  view  of  consciousness  man  seems 
partly  necessitated  and  partly  free. 

The  essence  of  spirit  is  to  perceive 
itself  and  this  tendency  is  infinite.  Matter 
is  simply  spirit  contemplated  in  the  equilib- 


La  ndsca pe  Painting. 


3 6 


riura  of  its  activities.  But  spirit  finds  out- 
ward limitations,  and  hence  arises  the  dis- 
tinction of  the  outer  and  inner  sense,  the 
former  being  simply  the  latter  as  limit- 
ed. Spirit  lias  the  infinite  tendency  to 
become  object  to  itself.  The  goal  of  all 
its  acts  is  self-consciousness,  and  the  his- 
tory pf  those  acts  is  just  the  history  of 
self-consciousness.  Hence  the  task  of 
philosophy  can  be  completed  only  when 
we  have  reached  the  goal  of  complete 


self-consciousness.  Such  self-conscious- 
ness is  will,  in  which  theoretical  and  prac- 
tical reason  meet  together.  But  everything 
arises  from  our  representations,  and  holding 
them  away  from  us  we  are  able  to  explain 
them  and  connect  the  theoretical  and  the 
practical  self.  Thus  we  arrive  at  the  Ego 
as  the  principle  of  freedom,  beginning 
with  which  we  can  now  see  spirit  and 
nature  arise  together. 


Eighteenth  Day,  — August  5. 


LANDSCAPE 

BY  1)R. 

IN  early  art,  among  the  Egyptians  and 
Asiatic  people,  nature  is  a fate  that 
annuls  the  freedom  of  man  and  rests  like 
a great  weight  upon  him.  It  seems  to 
crush  him  to  earth,  and  the  feeling  of  this 
oppression  is  represented  in  their  art. 
Pillars  of  their  temples  are  made  as  if 
supporting  enormous  burdens,  and  it  is 
not  till  the  Greek  begins  to  find  the 
superiority  of  mind  over  nature  that  the 
pillars  become  light  in  design,  and  even 
bear  acanthus  leaves  at  their  tops,  as  if 
they  slighted  the  weight  to  be  supported. 
In  Greece  was  developed  the  idea  of  the 
supremacy  of  the  mind  ; the  body  was 
looked  upon  as  the  temple  of  God.  Hence 
it  was  cultured  in  the  games  to  a degree  of 
wonderful  grace  and  beauty  and  became 
a model  for  the  statues  which  the  world 
admires.  There  were  the  Olympian,  the 
Pythian,  the  Nemean  and  the  Isthmian. 
Culture  of  the  body  resulted  in  the  devel- 
opment of  sculpture.  The  statues  of  the 
victors  were  set  up  in  the  grove.  Then, 
too,  the  perfected  physical  forms  fur- 
nished models  for  the  statues  of  the  gods. 


PAINTING. 

HARRIS. 

After  the  Greeks,  the  Romans  had  a 
still  deeper  insight  and  saw  the  highest 
divine  expression  in  the  will.  Law  is  the 
expression  of  will  and  the  Romans  became 
the  law-makers  of  the  world.  The  Ro- 
mans invented  the  arch  and  rounded  it  into 
a dome.  Singularly  enough,  the  arch  and 
dome  express  the  Roman  principle.  In 
them  each  stone  supports  all  the  others  and 
they  support  it.  The  arch  represents  the 
union  of  all  wills  in  the  universal  will.  If 
any  stone  is  removed  from  the  arch  it  will 
fall  and  perish.  If  any  will  is  not  in  har- 
mony with  society,  and  society  cannot 
destroy  the  opposing  will,  society  must 
perish.  The  Romans  were  unconscious  of 
the  significance  of  this  contribution  to  art, 
just  as  an}r  nation  is  unconscious  of  the 
meaning  of  the  highest  form  of  its  art.  It 
only  feels  that  the  art  is  in  harmony  with 
its  desires  and  aspirations.  Architecture 
has  not  reached  a high  development  in 
this  country,  but  for  their  court-houses  and 
public  buildings  the  Americans  have  in 
many  cases  instinctively  taken  the  dome. 
Among  Americans  and  English  the  art 


Landscape  Painting. 


137 


feeling  is  generally  very  dim,  and  is  ex- 
pressed chiefly  in  poetry.  The}’  have  no 
marked  taste  for  plastic  art,  painting, 
sculpture,  and  music.  But  in  selecting 
the  dome,  the  architects  have  followed  a 
true  instinct. 

Christian  art  was  a reaction  against  all 
that  was  material  and  external,  and  in 
painting  it  found  means  for  the  expres- 
sion of  internal  feelings.  Color  made  it 
possible  to  express  emotion  much  more 
accurately  than  it  could  be  expressed  in 
marble.  Christian  painting  takes  for  its 
theme  the  superiority  of  the  spirit  over 
the  body.  Martyrs  suffering  bodily  tor- 
ture could  die  with  placid  faces.  Their 
wonderful  internal  peace  and  strength 
found  even  better  expression  in  music. 
Christianity  makes  prominent  the  idea  of 
the  infinite  importance  of  the  individual, 
aud  modern  art  is  developed  in  the  direc- 
tion of  detail.  Mere  individuality  as  such 
becomes  a favorite  theme,  — with  a Rem- 
brandt for  example.  Earlier  it  was  indi- 
viduality only  as  type  of  the  universal  — a 
body  of  dazzling  beauty,  or  a martyr, 
attesting  the  divine  by  his  death. 

Music  better  than  any  other  form  of 
art,  expresses  the  desire  of  the  human 
person  to  attain  something  higher,  to  reach 
the  infinite.  Formerly  it  was  believed 
that  the  infinite  must  be  reached  by  sac- 
rifice of  the  finite.  So  the  things  of  this 
world  must  be  given  up.  A beggar  em- 
bodied the  idea  of  the  highest  type  of 
human  life.  But  later  has  been  developed 
the  idea  of  bodily  sacrifice  in  work,  whether 
in  the  kitchen  or  shop  or  farm,  for  the 
good  of  the  race,  and  there  has  grown 
up  the  idea  that  a secular  government 
may  be  divine  and  that  the  prose  reality 
of  usefulness  to  one’s  fellow  men  is  also 
the  embodiment  of  a divine  ideal. 

In  the  early  Christian  centuries  it  was 
important  that  the  church  should  lay  its 
hand  on  the  secular  government  and  com- 
pel it  to  follow  the  principles  of  the  church. 
Afterward,  when  the  church  saw  that  the 


state  was  permeated  with  religion  so  that 
the  sense  of  justice  had  ripened,  she  could 
say,  “ Go,  my  son.  You  have  organized 
yourself  on  the  divine  idea  of  justice.  The 
more  you  secure  that,  the  more  you  follow 
me.”  So  the  church  in  its  independence 
| lets  go  the  state  and  other  secular  insti- 
tutions when  they  are  organized  on  the 
divine  idea.  The  modern  spirit  leads 
more  and  more  to  the  founding  of  institu- 
tions which  unfold  into  independence  of 
the  church,  not  because  they  lack  religion, 
but  because  they  contain  it. 

The  tendency  is  to  make  institutions 
independent,  and  hence  particular  things 
take  on  more  importance,  and  for  the  ex- 
pression of  this  yearning  of  the  particular 
to  attain  the  divine,  or  the  universal,  mu- 
sic is  the  greatest  art.  It  could  not  have 
been  great  among  the  ancients.  They 
could  not  allow  the  human  individual  to 
be  recognized  in  his  finiteness  as  worthy 
of  attention  by  the  side  of  the  Divine. 
The  Greek  tragedies  show  how  dire  were 
the  consequences  if  the  individual  broke  the 
divine  ordinances.  Socrates  seems  to  have 
been  the  first  to  seize  the  idea  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  individual,  and  develop- 
ment of  this  idea  has  cost  all  the  travail  of 
history. 

Poetry  is  the  highest  of  all  arts,  because 
it  works  directly  on  the  productive  imagi- 
nation, while  the  other  arts  reach  the  pro- 
ductive imagination  indirectly  through  the 
perception  of  some  material  fashioned 
into  an  art-form.  There  must  be  a reve- 
lation of  reason,  as  well  as  sense-percep- 
tion, in  order  for  one  to  perceive  art.  A 
dog  can  see  no  art  in  a picture.  Poetry 
leaves  out  all  the  subordinate  stages  of 
art,  and  works  directly  on  the  imagina- 
tion, and  has  the  entire  sweep  of  painting, 
plastic  art,  architecture,  and  music. 

Dr.  Harris  then  took  up  a peculiar 
development  of  modern  times  in  art,  — 
landscape  painting.  In  ancient  poetry 
there  is  little  mention  of  landscapes,  and 
the  ancient  appreciation  of  landscapes 


Landscape  Painting. 


T38 

seems  to  have  been  materially  different 
from  the  modern.  A landscape  as  such  is 
not  the  most  direct  revelation  of  reason, 
for  that  is  much  better  revealed  in  the 
human  form  divine.  For  the  Greek  there 
must  be  a soul  shining  in  the  face  and  a 
single  thought  animating  the  figure.  Thus 
we  get  harmony,  and  the  symmetry  which 
the  ancient  idol-worshippers  attempted  to 
reach  byr  putting  faces  upon  the  back  of 
the  heads  of  their  gods,  and  by  adding 
other  pairs  of  arms,  is  superfluous,  for 
there  is  a unity  of  action  in  the  statue 
and  mere  symmetry,  or  mere  regularity, 
is  not  a high  form  of  unity. 

The  unity  of  activity  is  the  harmonizing 
principle  in  art,  and  this  was  seen  by  the 
Greeks.  It  is  illustrated  in  the  Apollo 
Belvedere,  whose  whole  figure  is  animated 
by  a single  thought,  as  the  posture  of 
eveiy  limb  is  influenced  by  the  purpose 
to  discharge  the  arrow,  or  perhaps  by  the 
intention  to  put  to  death  the  spoilers  of 
his  temple,  if  he  holds  the  aegis  of  Jove 
in  his  hand.  But  how  can  a landscape 
express  reason?  It  has  the  elements  of 
light,  air,  water,  high  land  and  low  land. 
Air  symbolizes  the  intellectual  in  human 
nature.  All  great  attributes  of  mind  are 
represented  by  light,  and  air  in  its  trans- 
parency is  the  chief  bearer  of  light,  its 
collector  and  distributor.  Air  also  is  the 
symbol  of  freedom.  Water  represents  the 
reflective  principle  of  mind,  and  is  the 
connecting  element  between  air  and  earth. 

Nature  is  everywhere  a reflection  or  a 
symbol  of  mind,  and  so  we  find  the  land- 
scape to  have  its  spiritual  suggestion.  As 
we  look  up  toward  the  mountains  (the 
third  element  of  a painting),  we  feel  the 
tonic  influence  corresponding  to  the  way 
in  which  we  are  affected  by  our  reason 
rising  to  perception  of  higher  truth.  Any 
good  landscape  must  represent  this  rising 
into  the  realm  of  clearness.  The  low  land 
represents  fertility  and  warmth,  luxuriant 
vegetation,  and  finitude  and  weariness  over 
details.  The  mountain  top  is  clear,  but 


cold,  like  the  pure  mind.  It  is  like  ice. 
But  the  stream  in  the  picture  flows  from 
glaciers,  carrying  fertility^  to  the  plain  be- 
low, as  the  cold  abstractions  of  mind, 
carried  down  to  common  life,  become  fruit- 
ful. In  the  valley  is  the  multi tute  of  de- 
tails, the  particular;  on  the  mountain  top 
is  the  universal. 

Dr.  Harris  then  explained  an  engrav- 
ing of  Church’s  “Heart  of  the  Andes,” 
which  hung  on  the  wall.  He  pointed  out 
the  cold  mountain  tops,  the  stream,  the 
pool  reflecting  the  sky,  the  luxuriant  vege- 
tation, and  the  abodes  of  man.  In  the 
lower  level  nature  seems  too  powerful  for 
man  to  subdue,  but  on  the  mountain  tops 
there  is  no  vegetation,  nothing  for  him  to 
conquer;  all  is  abstraction.  Indeed  it  is 
too  abstract.  Nature’s  vegetation  is  con- 
quered so  much  that  man  cannot  live 
there.  The  “Heart  of  the  Andes”  is 
perhaps  the  best  of  all  landscapes  for 
showing  the  significance  of  the  five  ele- 
ments of  landscape  paintings.  Bierstadt’s 
“Storm  in  the  Rocky  Mountains”  is  a 
good  picture,  but  does  not  have  the  at- 
mospheric effects  of  Church.  Dr.  Harris 
spoke  briefly  of  Claude  Lorraine’s  land- 
scapes as  illustrating  the  rest  of  man  in 
the  finite,  — the  living  careless  groups 
suggesting  the  finite,  and  the  architectural 
lines  of  ruins  near  them  suggesting  the 
eternal  element  of  the  mind. 

Then  he  spoke  in  much  detail  of  Turner 
and  his  wonderful  atmospheric  effects,  say- 
ing that  it  was  remarkable  that  the  painter 
of  the  most  wonderful  atmospheres  should 
be  a native  of  a country  where  the  sky  is 
rarely  clear.  But  his  imagination  taught 
him  how  to  make  use  of  the  atmospheres 
of  the  countries  whose  scenes  he  painted. 
The  country  of  fogs  and  mists  was  found 
to  possess  capacities  for  the  highest  order 
of  landscape  pictures.  If  Turner  goes  to 
Italy  he  must  find  its  phases  of  cloud  and 
mist,  and  present  them  in  their  glory  to 
the  neglect  of  the  mere  sunshine  and  clear 
air  and  distinct  outlines. 


Transcendental  Idealism  of  Schelling. 


139 


Dr.  Karris  explained  in  detail  a large  in  the  brief  conversation  afterward,  a high 
number  of  paintings  by  Turner  by  means  appreciation  was  shown  of  the  merits  of 
of  heliotypes.  In  his  explanations,  and  this  great  English  painter. 


JNeSTETEENTH  D.\Y, AUGUST  7. 


TRANSCENDENTAL  IDEALISM  OE  SCHELLING. 

BY  PROFESSOR  WATSON. 


TN  this  lecture  the  purpose  is  to'  give 
-E  some  idea  of  the  “Transcendental 
Idealism,”  in  which  the  ethical  idealism  of 
Fichte  is  sought  to  be  combined  with  the 
objective  idealism  to  which  Schelling  ad- 
vanced when  he  definitively  parted  from 
Fichte,  or,  as  he  himself  expressed  it, 
“made  a breach  to  nature.”  As  neither 
intelligence  nor  nature  exists  in  indepen- 
dence, philosophjr  may  start  from  either 
indifferently.  When  we  start  with  the 
former,  the  solution  of  the  problem  de- 
mands the  derivation  of  the  knowable  world 
of  objects  from  the  nature  of  intelligence. 
This  is  the  problem  which  transcendental 
idealism  has  to  resolve. 

Schelling  begins  by  showing  that  the 
simplest  form  of  consciousness  must  be  the 
perception  of  a limit,  and  having  done  so, 
he  draws  attention  to  the  fact  that  this 
immediate  consciousness  of  a limit  is  iden- 
tical with  that  stage  of  knowledge  known 
as  sensation.  The  second  phase  is  that  of 
perception.  In  the  former  there  is  an 
implicit  opposition  of  subject  and  ob- 
ject ; in  the  latter  the  opposition  becomes 
explicit.  In  perception  I have  a conscious- 
ness, not  simply  of  a limit,  but  of  some- 
thing which  is  a limit  to  me.  I not  only 
feel,  but  know  that  I feel.  Perception 
is  the  act  by  which  the  subject  apprehends 
an  object,  conceived  as  standing  in  oppo- 
sition to  it,  and  limited  by  it.  This  object 
is  viewed  as  completely  independent  of  any 


perceptive  activitj’,  and  as  existing  apart 
by  itself.  At  the  same  time  the  object  is 
not  something  which  is  regarded  as  the  mere 
effect  of  an  object,  but  as  an  actual  object 
of  perception  ; while  standing  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  subject,  it  is  yet  in  relation 
to  it. 

Schelling  then  proceeds  to  show  that 
the  world  of  nature,  as  an  object  stand- 
ing in  contrast  to  the  knowing  subject, 
is  really  only  a product  of  intelligence 
itself,  and  that  perception  must  therefore 
be  regarded  as  a process  of  intelligence, 
not  as  a dead  product  existing  apart  from 
intelligence.  Accordingly  he  endeavors 
to  connect  together,  in  the  closest  way, 
space  and  time,  and  the  categories  which 
Kant  has  separated.  It  further  seems  to 
him  that  the  categories  are  all  reducible 
to  those  classed  by  Kant  under  the  head 
of  relation.  It  is  at  the  stage  of  reflec- 
tion (which  is  Schelling’s  next  step)  that 
the  distinction  of  the  unconscious  and  con- 
scious productions  of  intelligence  is  clearly 
seen. 

After  a minute  examination  of  the  de- 
tails and  steps  by  which  Schelling  arrives 
at  this  point,  the  lecturer  then  said  that  in 
the  theoretical  part  of  his  sj’stem  he  has 
shown  that  an  ultimate  explanation  of  in- 
telligence, and  therefore  even  of  knowl- 
edge, must  be  sought  in  the  nature  of  will, 
for  the  perception  of  self-activity  is  inex- 
plicable so  long  as  we  remain  at  the  point 


140 


Transcendental  Idealism  of  Schelling. 


of  view  of  knowledge.  There  could  be  no 
knowledge  at  all,  did  not  intelligence  de- 
termine itself  to  activity,  and  hence  will  is 
the  condition  of  knowledge.  In  willing  I 
contrast  myself  as  purely  self-determined 
with  myself  as  active  only  in  knowing  ob- 
jects ; and  thus,  contemplating  myself  as 
raised  above  all  particular  perceptions,  I 
set  before  myself  an  object  as  an  ideal 
which  I am  freely  to  realize. 

The  lecturer  then  proceeded  to  complete 
the  practical  part  of  the  transcendental 
philosophy,  by  showing  the  bearing  of  the 
conception  of  freedom  upon  the  concep- 
tion of  rights,  the  state,  and  history. 
The  law  which  is  for  human  action  what 
the  law  of  causality  is  for  external  events, 
is  the  law  of  justice,  and  is  as  inexorable 
as  the  laws  of  nature.  The  law  of  justice 
is  a sort  of  second  nature  set  above  the 
first,  under  which  free  beings  must  be 
placed  in  the  interest  of  the  freedom  of 
each. 

To  secure  the  highest  form  of  constitu- 
tion in  all  individual  states,  there  ought 
to  be  a subordination  of  all  states  to  a 
common  law  of  justice  administered  by  an 
areopagus  of  nations.  The  gradual  reali- 
zation of  law  is  the  substance  of  history. 
Each  epoch  is  the  condition  of  a higher 
epoch,  which  includes  and  transcends  the 
one  that  has  gone  before.  History  is  thus 
a continual  advance  toward  a predeter- 
mined goal,  an  advance  which  is  realized 
ia  and  through  the  will  of  individuals,  and 
notwithstanding  the  free  play  of  individual 


caprice.  Necessity  and  freedom  are  related 
as  conscious  and  unconscious  action.  This 
necessity  is  more  potent  than  human  free- 
dom, and  prevails  in  spite  of  it.  Not  only 
tragic  art,  but  all  high  deeds  rest  upon  the 
belief  in  something  higher  than  ourselves. 
Such  an  order  of  things  is  not  the  moral 
order  of  the  world,  which  is  dependent  on 
freedom  and  can  be  made  a conscious  end, 
but  something  absolutely  objective,  which 
nerves  the  will  in  its  depths  and  gives 
us  security  that  the  highest  ends  will  be 
realized. 

In  our  immediate  consciousness  it  is  we 
who  act,  but  objectively  it  is  rather  some- 
thing else 'through  us.  This  “something 
else  ” is  the  unconscious,  while  we  are  con- 
scious, and  hence  it  has  to  be  shown  that 
the  one  is  identical  with  the  other.  Is 
there  any  object  of  perception  which  com- 
bines those  two  characteristics?  Schelling 
finds  there  is  in  the  case  of  organisms. 

Our  next  step  is  to  find  in  intelligence 
itself  the  explicit  consciousness  of  that 
unit}'.  This  Schelling  finds  in  art.  The 
rest  of  the  lecture  was  devoted  to  the  de- 
velopment of  this  idea,  showing  the  high 
rank  which  Schelling  gives  to  art.  The 
fundamental  character  of  every  genuine 
work  of  art  is  its  unconscious  infinity. 
Every  work  of  art  exists  purely  for  its 
own  sake,  not  for  any  finite  end  whatever, 
such  as  pleasure,  utility,  morality  or  sci- 
ence. In  art,  intelligence  for  the  first  time 
becomes  self-conscious  in  the  widest  sense 
of  the  term.  Thus  our  system  is  complete. 


Alexandrian  Platonism. 


Mr 


ALEXANDRIAN  PLATONISM. 

BY  DR.  WILDER. 


r | M1E  origin  of  the  Alexandrian  school 
of  philosophy  is  usually  traced  to  Ara- 
monius  Sakkas.  He  had  been  brought  up 
as  a Christian,  but  entertained  the  pro- 
found conviction  that  among  the  multi- 
plicity of  religions  and  doctrines,  there 
existed  the  remains  of  the  true  religion, 
which  might  be  eliminated  and  constitute 
a faith  and  philosophy  in  which  all  might 
unite.  This  true  faith  he  considered  to 
be  the  wisdom,  or,  more  accurately,  wis- 
dom-religion of  the  ancients.  Follow- 
ing the  example  of  Pythagoras,  Eumolpos 
and  the  priesthoods,  he  instituted  a secret 
rite  and  required  his  disciples  to  obligate 
themselves  not  to  divulge  the  esoteric 
doctrines  except  to  persons  who  had 
been  duly  initiated.  This  secret  associa- 
tion does  not  appear  to  have  existed  long, 
as  Herenuius  after  his  death  hesitated  not 
to  teach  openly,  and  both  Porphyry  and 
Iamblichus  referred  their  disciples  to  the 
current  Hellenic,  Mithraic  and  Egyp  iau 
mysteries. 

The  sages  and  mystagogues  of  Western 
Asia  and  the  adjoining  regions,  appear  to 
have  lighted  their  torches  at  the  fire-altar 
of  Zoroaster.  We  have  the  assurance  of 
Porphyry  that  the  secret  rites  constituted 
the  oldest  worship.  The  Mysteries,  whether 
of  the  Kabeirian  gods,  or  of  Isis,  Adonis, 
Bacchus,  or  Demeter  and  her  daughter, 
were  evidently  imported  from  Assyria. 
Speculative  philosophy,  itself  the  outcome 
of  religious  doctrine,  must  have  had  the 
same  source.  After  the  conquest  of  Pon- 
tus,  where  Mithraism  was  the  occult  wor- 
ship, the  secret  rites  were  adopted  over 
the  Roman  world.  We  find  their  influ- 
ence in  the  existence  of  Gnosticism  in  the 
Christian  church,  which  retained  a foot- 
hold till  the  extirpation  of  the  Albigenses. 


As  the  widowed  Isis  searched  everywhere 
for  the  mutilated  fragments  of  her  hus- 
band’s body,  so  did  Ammonias  Sakkas,  in 
his  quest  for  truth,  explore  the  various 
faiths  which  found  expression  at  Alexan- 
dria. His  noblest  disciple  was  Plotinus, 
who  united  the  intuition  of  a seer  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  a worshipper.  After  a time 
we  find  him  at  Rome,  endeavoring,  among 
other  things  to  establish  a Platonic  com- 
monwealth. We  learn  the  most  that  is 
known  about  him  from  Augustine  and 
Porphyry,  his  favorite  disciple.  He  was 
a vegetarian  like  Pythagoras  and  lived 
unmarried  like  Plato.  Augustine  declared 
him  to  be  the  Great  Teacher  resuscitated, 
and  the  true  expositor  of  the  interior 
meaning  of  the  Dialectic.  He  wrote  by 
inspiration,  Porphyry  declares ; and  was 
in  close  intimacy  and  assimilation  to  God. 
His  diffidence,  probity,  accurate  habits  and 
ability  were  such  that  Roman  patricians 
bequeathed  their  orphans  and  estates  to  his 
care  to  protect  and  administer. 

Longinus  was  another  disciple  of  Am- 
monias. He  was  a man  of  great  learning 
and  retentive  memory.  He  opened  a 
school  of  philosophy  and  rhetoric  at 
Athens,  at  which  Porphyry  became  a 
pupil.  Afterward  he  was  the  preceptor 
and  counsellor  of  the  celebrated  Queen 
Zenobia.  His  treatise  on  the  Sublime  is 
his  sole  remaining  work. 

Porphyry  seems  to  have  given  tangible 
form  to  the  new  philosophy.  Plotinus 
declared  him  a poet,  scholar  and  hiero- 
phant, all  in  one.  He  wrote  many  books, 
but  most  of  them  have  been  destroyed.  H e 
was  considered  as  in  many  respects  the 
representative  man  of  the  Neo-Platonic 
school. 

Iamblichus,  his  cotemporaiy  and  sue- 


I42 


A! excindrian  Platonism . 


cessor,  has  been  supposed  to  have  taken  a 
new  departure  in  philosophic  teaching. 
This  conjecture  is  founded  upon  the  en- 
deavor in  his  famous  work  on  “ Initia- 
tions,” to  identify  philosophy  with  the 
theurgy  of  the  Egyptian  worship  and  the 
angelology  of  Assyria.  He  indeed  affects 
to  be  a priest  and  hierophant  rather  than  a 
sage,  or  student  of  the  higher  wisdom. 

The  last  bright  luminary  of  the  Alexan- 
drian constellation  was  the  celebrated 
Hypatia.  She  was  a proficient  in  mathe- 
matical learning  and  introduced  a more 
rigorous  method  into  the  teaching  of 
philosophy.  She  had  been  her  own  pre- 
ceptor, but  completed  her  studies  at 
Athens,  and  became  a lecturer  at  the  Mu- 
saeum  at  the  request  of  the  magistrates  of 
Alexandria.  Many  of  the  best  and  ablest 
men  of  the  age  repaired  thither  to  listen  to 
her.  Her  career  was  cut  short  b}'  her 
atrocious  assassination,  which  has  left  its 
brand  on  all  who  promoted  and  partici- 
pated in  the  crime. 

Proklos  and  a few  others  continued  the 
school  at  Athens.  The  times,  however, 
were  adverse,  and  finally  Justinian  prohib- 
ited them  from  giving  instruction.  This 
arbitrary  action  did  not  destnyy  philoso- 
phy. Both  the  Platonic  and  Aristotelian 
doctrines,  under  various  names  and  forms, 
were  entertained  and  taught  in  the  vari- 
ous Christian  and  Moslem  countries,  all 
through  the  middle  ages. 

The  world  owes  more  to  the  Alexan- 
drian philosophers  than  it  is  usual  to  ac- 
knowledge. Their  doctrines  have  some- 
times been  called  eclectic , as  having  been 
taken  from  the  principal  systems  extant 
in  the  world.  In  lamblichus  are  recognized 
the  triads  of  existence.  These  are  the 
ousia , or  essence  ; the  energeia,  or  interior 
activity,  and  the  dunam  is , potency  or  re- 
ceptive principle.  The  essence  is  the  per- 
manent reality,  the  efficient  cause  of  phe- 
nomenal existence,  and  it  is  intermediate 
between  the  sole  Deity  and  the  objective 
universe.  The  potency  is  the  power  and 


capacity  of  producing,  while  the  energ}’  is 
the  active  principle  that  unites  with  it  to 
that  end.  The  following  formula  is  how- 
ever more  commonly  used  : the  essence, 
the  genesis,  or  creative  principle  by  which 
souls  come  within  the  region  of  the  cosmic 
universe,  and  the  phusis , or  nature  by 
which  and  through  which  all  things  are 
evolved.  The  categories  of  spiritual  be- 
ings are  set  forth  by  him  with  a careful  ex- 
plicitness. Very  precise  instructions  are 
given  in  regard  to  their  appearance  and 
specific  character,  at  the  sacred  rites ; 
indicating  that  apparitions  (or  more  prob- 
ably representations  of  them)  were  seen 
on  those  occasions. 

The  philosophical  systems  of  the  an- 
cients were  all  of  them  closely  affiliated  to 
the  secret  rites.  “What  Orpheus  shadowed 
forth  by  the  mystic  worship,  Pythagoras 
expressed  by  his  symbology  and  Plato 
by  philosophy.”  Worship  stood  at  the 
foundation,  and  philosophy  was  the  super- 
structure. The  early  Christians  had  also 
their  Mysteries  and  we  find  frequent  allu- 
sions to  them  in  the  New  Testament. 
When  the  disciples  interrogated  Jesus  in 
regard  to  his  use  of  blind  parables  when 
addressing  the  multitude,  he  replied  : “ To 
you  it  is  given  to  know  the  mysteries  of 
the  kingdom  of  God  ; but  to  them  it  is  not 
given.  I speak  to  them  in  parables  in  order 
that  seeing  they  may  see  and  not  per- 
ceive, and  hearing  they  may  hear  and  not 
understand.”  In  conformity  with  this 
practice,  not  only  the  mystic  representa- 
tions and  the  dramas,  but  the  prophetic 
literature,  were  regarded  as  arcane  and  alle- 
gorical. Paul  recites  the  story  of  Abra- 
ham and  his  two  sons,  adding:  “Which 
things  are  an  allegory.”  He  also  refers 
to  the  exodus  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt 
and  accompanying  events,  and  declates 
these  to  be  “ ensamples,”  or  types  writ- 
ten out  for  admonition.  Josephus  also  de- 
clares that  Moses  wrote  like  the  philoso- 
phers, “ under  the  veil  of  a decent  alle- 
gory.” Philo,  Oiigen  and  Augustine,  as 


Alexandrian  Platonism . 


H3 


well  as  Emanuel  Swedenborg,  gave  an 
esoteric  sense  to  the  Mosaic  scriptures. 
Man}’  of  the  Platonists  expound  the  Dia- 
logues as  mystic  utterances.  Kingsley 
represents  Hypatia  as  interpreting  the 
works  of  Homer  as  metaphors  relating  to 
the  soul.  Such  was  the  universal  prac- 
tice. Paul  emphatically  declares  that  he 
had  a secret  doctrine,  “ a mystery”  which 
none  of  the  arehons  of  the  Grecian  rites 
knew  about.  “ We  speak  wisdom  to  them 
that  are  perfect,”  said  he;  “even  that 
which  is  arcane,  — the  wisdom  of  God  in  a 
mystery.”  It  may  fairly  be  supposed, 
therefore,  that  both  apostle  and  philoso- 
pher taught  alike  that  all  real  knowledge 
related  to  the  soul  and  its  discipline,  and 
that  the  universe  itself  is  the  shadow  of 
the  Deity,  a symbol  of  his  power,  a veil  to 
shade  his  presence,  a school  to  lead  to 
him,  and  that  in  its  inmost  entity  it  is 
divine. 

While  the  Alexandrian  philosophers, 
like  others,  taught  of  “gods  many  and 
lords  many,”  the}’  all  acknowledge  the 
One,  the  God  prior  to  the  first  God  and 
King  (Mithras),  the  Alone,  abiding  in 
Eternity.  This  Divine  All  was  the  “ Con- 
cealed God  ” of  the  Egyptians,  and  the 
One  whom  the  Babylonians  held  as  the 
One  to  be  contemplated  and  adored  in 
silence.  He  was  in  eternal  repose,  yet 
that  repose  was  an  ever-inspiring,  incessant 
Energy.  We  have  the  word  of  Porphyry 
that  the  cult  of  Mithras  was  an  earlier 
worship  of  the  archaic  world.  It  is  ap- 
parently an  Ethiopian  or  Ivushite  religion. 
In  the  Assyrian  symbology  Mithras  is 
denoted  by  the  elevated  fire,  the  luminous 
globe,  the  divinity  in  the  Disk,  the  one 
standing  in  the  Sun.  He  was  “ the  God  of 
Truth  ” and  the  hater  of  a lie.  The  “ Ora- 
cles of  Zoroaster  ” are  supposed  to  relate 
to  his  worship. 

The  Mithraic  doctrines  teach  the  lapse 
or  descent  of  the  human  soul  from  its 
primeval  state  on  high,  the  purifications 
essential  in  order  to  cleanse  it  from  earthly 


taint,  and  its  ascent  through  twelve  gates 
or  grades,  from  order  to  order  and  from 
virtue  to  virtue,  till  it  attained  a throne 
with  the  gods.  We  find  this  same  idea 
conspicuous  in  Neo-Platonism. 

Plato  taught  the  same.  He  distinguishes 
the  soul  into  two  regions,' the  divine 
immortal  part  and  the  diverse,  which  is 
passional  and  receptive.  When  it  adheres 
firmly  to  what  is  illuminated  by  Truth 
and  Real  Being,  it  then  understands  and 
knows,  and  appears  to  possess  the  higher 
spiritual  faculty.  But  w’hen  it  joins  itself 
to  what  is  blended  with  darkness,  it  deals 
with  opinion  only,  and  so  wanders  from 
one  opinion  to  another  like  one  destitute 
of  the  higher  reason.  That  which  imparts 
truth  and  the  faculty  of  knowing,  is  the 
idea  of  the  good  and  the  principle  of 
knowledge  of  truth.  It  is  not  correct, 
however,  to  suppose  that  knowledge  and 
truth,  either  of  them,  is  “ the  Good,”  for 
that  is  still  superior. 

The  Apostle  Paul,  in  the  first  Corinthian 
Epistle,  discourses  thus  : “ Eye  hath  not 

seen  nor  ear  heard  the  things  which  God 
hath  prepared  for  those  that  love  him  ; but 
he  hath  revealed  them  to  us  through  the 
spirit,  for  the  spirit  exploretlr  all  things, 
even  the  bathe  or  deeps  of  the  Divine.” 
Of  course  the  agnostic  and  rationalist 
would  scout  such  wisdom  as  not  being 
philosophical.  “ The  psychical  man  re- 
ceiveth  not  the  things  of  the  spirit,  for 
they  are  foolishness  to  him  ; neither  can  he 
know  them,  because  they  are  spirituallv 
discerned.  But  he  that  is  spiritual  dis- 
cerneth  all  things,  but  he  himself  is  dis- 
cerned by  no  one.  For  who  hath  known  the 
mind  of  God,  and  who  has  spoken  his 
counsel  ? ” 

The  Apostle  relates  an  example  of  vis- 
ion, which illustra'es  this  superior  condition. 
“I  know  a man,”  says  he,  “whether  in 
the  body  I cannot  tell,  or  whether  out  of  . 
the  body  I cannot  tell ; God  knows.  He 
was  caught  up  to  the  third  heaven  — into 
paradise,  and  heard  things  unspeakable, 


144  The  Community  of  the  Faiths  and  the  Worships  of  Mankind. 


which  it  is  not  lawful  (possible)  for  a man 
to  utter.”  Analogous  instances  can  be  cited 
in  other  parts  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 

This  peculiar  condition  is  recognized  b}r 
the  Brahmans.  “ To  the  Omniscient,  the 
three  modes  of  being,  — sleep,  waking  and 
trance, — are  not,”  says  Manu. 

Porphyry  has  related  of  Plotinus,  that 
he,  by  the  method  set  forth  b\'  Plato  in 
The  Banquet,  was  elevated  into  an  ineffable 
union  with  Divinity.  “ By  the  assistance 
of  the  Divine  light,”  says  he,  “ Plotinus 
frequently  raised  himself  by  his  concep- 
tions to  the  First  God,  who  is  beyond,  who 
hath  neither  form  nor  idea.  He  did  this  by 
an  ineffable  energ}",  and  not  by  poten- 
tiality. I also  once  approached,  and  wras 
united  to  the  Supreme  Divinity,  when  I 
was  sixty-eight  years  of  age.” 

This  superior  exaltation  is  evidently 
identical  with  the  yoga  and  nirvana  of 
the  Buddhists  and  Brahmans. 


Aristotle  appears  to  have  known  some- 
thing about  the  ecstatic  condition.  That 
it  must  be  recognized  as  a psychical  fact, 
and  in  some  sense  a function  of  human 
existence,  cannot  be  candidly  denied. 
Every  religious  faith  has  had  at  its  incep- 
tion numerous  phenomena  of  the  kind. 
Mohammed  says:  “There  are  moments 

in  which  I am  with  God  in  such  a manner 
that  neither  angel  nor  prophet  nor  apostle 
can  attain  to  it.”  Plotinus  seems,  how- 
ever, to  have  explained  it.  “ You  can  ap- 
prehend the  Infinite  only  through  the  fac- 
ulty superior  to  the  understanding  by  enter- 
ing into  a condition  in  which  you  are  your 
finite  self  no  longer,  in  which  the  Divine 
Essence  is  communicated  to  you.” 

In  conclusion,  it  would  seem  that  the 
Alexandrian  philosophers  professed  to 
bring  down  the  Divinity  to  men  ; but,  in 
candor,  it  must  be  understood  that  they 
meant  the  elevating  of  men  to  Divinity. 


Twentieth  Day,  — August  8. 


THE  COMMUNITY  OF  THE  FAITHS  AND  THE  WORSHIPS 

OF  MANKIND. 

BY  DR.  JONES. 


rnilE  due  emphasis  of  differences  of  opin- 
ion,  pursued  in  the  spirit  of  discussion 
rather  than  of  controversy,  tends  to  liber- 
ate from  the  limitations  of  thought  and  ex- 
perience of  the  individual  and  the  current 
age.  But  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  this 
deliverance  is  history.  To  know  truly 
what  our  gfcat  ancestors  thought,  believed, 
loved  and  worshipped,  may  therefore  be 
, held  to  be  a philosophic  aim,  practically 
related  to  the  welfare  and  wisdom  of  the 
present  time.  The  things  that  are  seen 
are  temporal ; but  the  things  that  are  not 


seen  are  eternal.  The  eternal  forms  are 
the  stable  factor  of  the  universe,  and  the 
temporal  things  are  the  transient ; the  eter- 
nal forms  are  the  substantial,  and  the  tem- 
poral are  their  effigies.  The  sphere  of 
essential  forms  is  called  the  spiritual  world  ; 
the  sphere  of  the  phenomenal  or  apparent 
forms  the  natural  world. 

Nature  is  but  a visible  image  of  invisible 
forms,  moving  and  acting.  Nature  is  the 
forming  mould ; the  supernatural  is  the 
pattern.  The  mould  is  the  realm  of  crea- 
tive formation ; the  pattern  is  essential 


The  Community  of  the  Faiths  and  the  Worships  of  Mankind.  145 


and  eternal  form.  It  is  abiding,  immuta- 
ble being,  which  threads  and  holds  in  per- 
petual identity  and  succession  that  which 
has  in  and  of  itself  no  stability.  And 
nature  is  therefore  but  a visible  image  of 
invisible  realities. 

But  the  mould  and  pattern  are  not  alike  ; 
they  are  contrarieties.  Where  the  pattern 
is  convex,  the  mould  is  concave  ; or,  as  in 
the  camera,  the  images  are  inverted  and 
reversed  from  the  real  forms.  Nature  is 
therefore  not  a direct  but  an  indirect  dis- 
course of  the  supernatural.  She  is  an  in- 
direction and  a reversal  of  the  forms  and 
order  of  which  she  is  the  apparition.  The 
material  apparitions  are,  to  the  corporeal 
sense,  contrary  to  the  truths  of  natural 
science  ; and  the  physical  apparitions  are, 
to  mind  exclusively  in  the  lumen  of  natu- 
ral science,  contrary  to  the  truths  of  the 
spirit,  the  forms  and  facts  of  the  super- 
natural. In  this  cause  mythic  discourse 
has  its  reason,  its  peculiarity,  its  history, 
and  its  justification.  Because  of  this  con- 
trariety of  the  letter  and  the  spirit  in  the 
spheres  of  mind  and  matter,  he  that  would 
read  nature’s  handwriting  of  the  supernat- 
ural must  be  illuminated  to  see  the  super- 
natural, to  see  the  forms  of  essential 
being. 

In  every  age  of  the  world  which  history 
records,  there  have  been  persons  who  have 
been  led  of  the  spirit  of  truth,  which  lead- 
eth  ever  the  reverent  and  obedient  soul 
into  all  truth,  — men  and  women  sent  from 
God,  the  angels,  delegated  with  commis- 
sions of  Divine  love,  truth,  and  guidance 
to  mortals.  Human  history  is  not  a record 
of  the  aboriginal  creation,  or  entrance  of 
souls  into  being  and  their  exit  therefrom. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  the  movement  of  the 
eternal  soul  through  the  sphere  of  time. 
The  thought,  the  experience,  the  eventuali- 
ties of  this  motion,  are  the  annals.  And 
of  this  perpetual  movement  of  an  eternal 
nature  there  is  in  philosoph}’  no  new  thing 
under  the  sun. 

This  unity  of  tin?  race,  through  endless 


successions  of  generations  of  immortal 
souls  in  mortal  generation,  must  be  seized 
upon  as  the  onty  and  first  principle  of  his- 
tory ere  we  can  read  history.  All  the  facts 
of  history  pre-exist  in  the  mind  of  everj- 
andof  each  generation,  and  so  round  about 
the  mind  of  today  are  stuck  the  mj’stic 
forms  of  the  great  ages  of  thought,  philos- 
ophy and  religion.  The  content  of  these 
forms  is  in  us  as  well,  and  we  shall  see  with 
what  eyes  we  bring.  And  as  we  realize 
our  liberation  from  egotistic  and  illiberal 
conceit,  we  shall  understand  the  actions 
of  the  Jew,  the  Greek,  the  Egyptian,  the 
Asiatic  and  the  European,  as  they  discourse 
of  the  mighty  works  and  the  eternal  forms. 

In  this  spirit  of  just  sympathy  and  fra- 
ternity only  shall  we  subordinate  the  alien 
element,  and  bring  to  the  foreground  of 
our  estimates  the  thought,  aims,  devotions 
and  deeds  that  are  generic  in  humanity, 
and  011I3'  so  shall  we  read  history  truly. 
Man  is  somehow  the  “ offspring  of  God  ; ” 
the  human  race  is  a descent  from  the  eter- 
nal mind,  and  the  impress  of  Deity  is  actual 
in  the  conscious  soul  and  actuates  it.  So 
that  the  unifying  principle  of  history  is  the 
conviction  and  experience  of  the  presence 
and  dominance  of  the  Supreme  Deity  per- 
vading and  upholding  all  things,  to  be 
reasonably  worshipped  by  his  creatures 
through  those  things  by  which  he  is  mani- 
fest. 

And  this  conviction  and  acknowledgment 
of  the  one  living  God  and  Father  of  all  have 
underlaid  the  institutions,  the  worship,  gov- 
ernments, civil  authorities  and  laws  of  all 
human  society  of  every  age.  In  no  instance 
within  the  pale  of  history  have  a race  of 
men  who  look  upon  the  heavens  and  earth 
with  the  eyes  of  oxen  and  horses  ever  laid 
the  foundations  and  reared  the  superstruc- 
ture of  a civil  empire.  Only  they  who  have 
seen  with  religious  e3'es  have  founded  and 
built  the  sacred  and  political  institutions 
of  society.  The  annals  of  all  ages  attest 
that  the  human  mind  has  never  rested 
within  the  limit  of  natural  phenomenon,  but 


146  The  Community  of  the  Faiths  and  the  Worships  of  Mankind. 


that  a deep  and  abiding  consciousness  of 
divinity  has  impelled  man  to  seek  and  iden- 
tify. beyond  this  boundary  of  sense,  the  en- 
tities and  causes  of  all  sensible  apparition. 
And  history  and  philosophy  further  attest 
that  the  inventory  of  this  search  after  Divine 
entity  and  causation  is  nob-inane  babbling. 
But  in  every  age  men  have  invoked  Deity 
as  the  one  uncreated  cause  and  Father  of 
all.  the  one  supreme,  omnipotent,  omnis- 
cient, omnipresent  and  unmade  Deity,  of 
whom  the  universe  aud  its  content  are  the 
offspring,  in  whom  the  soul  hath  its  parental 
fountain  and  providential  care. 

Indeed,  the  whole  world  of  mankind, 
through  all  ages,  has  worshipped  one  only 
Supreme  Name  in  a multiform  manner, 
under  different  names  and  rites,  while  the 
so-called  polytheism,  if  it  existed  at  all.  is 
truly  alleged  only  as  the  idolatry  of  the  sot- 
tish vulgar,  who  are  common  to  every  gen- 
eration and  every  worship,  Pagan  and 
Christian  alike,  a sensuous  generation, 
that  lead  not  in  nor  characterize  any  his- 
toric movement.  It  may  be  affirmed  of 
the  most  plausible  exceptions,  as  the  Per- 
sian Ahriman  and  Egyptian  Typhon,  that 
they  are  the  personification  of  the  evil 
principle,  as  the  satanic  polity  of  souls 
who  are  there  found  to  be,  in  the  fatal 
determinations,  the  instrument  of  Divine 
Providence  in  this  sublunary  world.  In 
which  view  evil  is  not  an  entity’  at  all,  in 
and  of  itself,  but  a relativity  to  good. 

It  appears  upon  the  testimony  and  rea- 
sons of  Aristotle  and  Plato,  that  the  the- 
ology of  the  Pagan  Greeks  consistently 
and  reasonably  embraced  the  idea  first  of 
one  supreme,  omnipotent,  and  only  un- 
made Deity,  the  Creator  and  Father  and 
benefactor  of  gods  and  men  ; and  second, 
the  idea  of  subordinate  divine  entities,  gods 
supermundane  and  mundane,  daemons  and 
heroes,  all  of  whom  are  ministers  and 
servants  of  the  Most  High. 

What  is  the  idea  of  the  institutions  and 
ceremonies  of  the  Pagan-Greek  worship? 
Is  it  true  that  this  highest  intelligence, 


thought  and  genius  of  a great  age,  a wor- 
ship comprehending  in  its  instruments  and 
aims  the  elements  of  a social  power  and 
history  which  gave  a moral,  intellectual 
and  religious  supremacy  over  the  nations 
of  the  world,  unequalled  for  its  extent  and 
permanency,  was  a vulgar  idolatry?  What 
mean  the  names  of  these  divinities,  these 
statues  and  lofty  temples?  Athene  is  a 
myth  ; Demeter  is  a myth  ; Dionysus  is  a 
myth.  In  mythic  terms  Minerva  was  born 
directly  from  the  brain  of  great  Jove,  Zeus- 
Pater,  the  father-god.  What  else  is  this 
than  the  irradiation  of  divine  thought  in 
all  things  created? 

Again,  in  mythic  term  Demeter  is  the 
Earth-Mother.  Mother  Earth  with  her 
gifts  to  man  is  a divinity.  Without  her 
providential  presence  the  earth  is  neg- 
lected, man  is  desocialized,  and  the  land 
is  barren  and  fruitless  ; on  the  other  hand, 
the  most  desolate  country  of  the  world  is 
made  fruitful  by  her  hand.  The  fruits  of 
the  earth  are  of  Providence  Divine,  and 
not  of  fortuitous  spontaneity.  And  again, 
as  a middle  term  in  this  triad  of  a national 
faith,  Dionysus,  the  Bacchus,  the  wine- 
god,  the  true  god,  the  giver  of  terrestial 
joys  and  gladness  of  heart,  the  delight 
of  life,  the  realization  of  heart-gladness, 
life-joy  and  thanksgiving,  is  also  the  be- 
stowment  of  the  Most  High,  a Divine 
Providence,  a manifestation  of  divinity. 

The  sacred  highway  is  a mythic  form. 
It  spans  the  expanses  of  the  sublunary 
world  of  the  soul.  It  represents  the  ex- 
perimental progressions  and  retrogressions 
of  the  soul  between  the  celestial  and  ter- 
restrial abodes.  All  of  earth  from  the 
celestial  heights  of  the  spirit,  — Athene  in 
the  Acropolis,  to  the  terrestrial  fruitions 
of  the  plain,  Demeter  in  Eleusis,  recon- 
ciled and  realized  as  the  festive  proces- 
sion in  life’s  sacred  way, — Dionysus, — is 
comprehended  in  the  thought  of  divinity 
manifest  as  Divine  Providence.  And  in 
this  contemplation  of  the,  supernatural  and 
natural  in  a science  of  divinity  and  of  na- 


The  Community  of  the  Faiths  and  the  Worships  of  Mankind.  147 


tu re  it  may  be  emphasized  that  there  is  no 
worthy  fmit  of  existence  unless  it  be  con- 
summated in  joy  and  rejoicing  of  the  spirit ; 
without  this  the  fruit  of  all  beauty,  truth 
and  knowledge,  and  of  all  creeds  and  con- 
fessions, and  of  all  sacrifice  is  but  ashes 
and  dust. 

According!}’,  in  the  Greek  polytheism, 
the  supreme  and  unmade  divinity  as  he 
was  manifest  in  the  illumination  of  the 
conscious  soul,  was  Minerva  ; as  he  was 
manifest  in  the  providence  of  the  fruits 
of  the  earth,  he  was  Ceres  ; as  he  was 
manifest  in  the  bestowment  of  divine  de- 
light. he  was  Bacchus  ; in  the  ether  he  was 
Jupiter;  in  the  air  he  was  Juno;  in  the 
sea  he  was  Neptune  ; in  the  earth  he  was 
Pinto  ; in  divination  and  the  fine  arts  he 
was  Apollo  ; in  time  he  was  Saturn  ; in 
war  he  was  Mars  ; in  fire  he  was  Vulcan  ; 
in  the  art  of  healing  he  rvas  Esculapius ; 
in  the  light  and  beauty  of  the  psychic 
sphere  he  was  Diana  ; as  inspiring  love  he 
was  celestial  Venus.  And  so  all  these 
rmthical  deities  were  one  God.  They  are 
but  the  several  names  of  the  Supreme,  the 
Jupiter  Omnipotens,  in  his  many  mani- 
festations of  government,  and  the  provi- 
dences and  bestowmeuts  of  the  world. 

This  view  of  the  principles  of  the  an- 
cient worship  is  further  supported  and 
defended  by  corroboratory  evidence  of  all 
other  of  the  pagan,  systems  of  antiquity, 
the  Persians,  Egyptians  and  early  Hin- 
doos ; their  polytheism  -was  substantially 
the  same,  and  there  was  always  one  su- 
preme, omnipotent  and  only  unmade  Deity. 
The  Persians  invoked  their  deity  as  the 
“ Creator  of  the  Corporeal  World,”  “ The 
Giver  of  all  Good,”  “The  Master  of 
Eaithly  Creatures,”  “The  Holiest  of  the 


Heavenly,  that  giveth  us  Wisdom  and 
Understanding.” 

The  Zoroastrian  doctrine  of  God  is  that 
he  is  older  than  the  darkness  and  light, 
and  the  creator  of  them,  so  that  he  is  with- 
out companion  or  counsel,  and  that  good 
and  evil,  virtue  and  vice,  did  arise  from  a 
certain  commixture  of  light  and  darkness, 
without  which  this  lower  world  could  not 
be  produced.  In  the  Egyptian  religion 
Ammon  is  the  one  supreme  name,  the 
author  and  finisher  of  all ; Osiris  is  the 
manifestation  of  his  providence  as  father 
of  all,  and  Isis  is  the  manifestation  of  his 
providence  as  the  preserving  and  redeem- 
ing love. 

In  all  which  and  much  more  available 
testimony  it  may  be  made  to  appear  that 
there  is  no  real  era,  no  great  faith  and 
worship,  no  great  nationality  in  human 
history,  ancient  or  modern,  in  which  the 
generations  of  earth  had  not  their  genesis 
in  the  idea  of  the  one  supreme  name,  the 
immovable  mover,  the  first  cause,  the 
Creator,  Father  and  ruler  of  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  and  of  gods  and  men,  with 
visible  manifestations  and  intermediator}’ 
ministries.  And  from  all  which  is  reason- 
ably deducible,  also,  the  philosophical  theo- 
rem, that  the  idea  of  deity  engenders  and 
determines  as  the  first  principle  or  cause, 
the  historic  movement  of  the  world  ; and 
consequently  in  all  successful  research  this 
idea  must  be  discovered  to  be  the  fountain, 
and  first  principle  of  every  great  historic 
form  of  faith  and  nationality ; and  the 
dominance  and  lead  of  an  idolatrous  poly- 
theism in  any  age,  is  but  the  expres- 
sion and  witness  of  the  decadence  of  its 
faith. 


148 


Immortality. 


IMMORTALITY. 

BY  MII.  ALCOTT. 


R.  ALCOTT  began  his  concluding 
lecture  with  a review  of  the  three 
preceding  ones,  which  have  led  to  the  sub- 
ject of  immortality.  Our  Personality,  he 
said,  is  our  likeness  to  the  Godhead  in  his 
threefold  attributes  of  the  beautiful,  the 
true  and  the  right ; these  being  made  man- 
ifest in  our  affections,  our  reason  and  our 
will  respectively.  But  above  all  and  in- 
cluding all,  there  is  love,  without  which 
neither  one  can  manifest  itself.  Spirit 
alone  gives  life,  and  life  is  the  essence  of 
love. 

Our  higher  instincts  are  the  manifesta- 
tions of  the  spirit  through  all  our  faculties. 
And  these  mysteries  manifest  themselves 
in  the  life  of  the  babe.  The  child  comes 
from  God  pure  and  holy,  and,  if  its  human 
parents  are  united  by  a divine  love,  the 
child  will  be  in  all  respects  divine  ; its 
temperament  will  present  the  fewest  appe- 
tites and  passions  hostile  to  its  real  self. 
But  if  its  human  parents  are  not  truly 
related,  there  will  enter  into  the  temper- 
ament of  the  child  whatever  is  evil  in  the 
parents.  Pure  love  is  the  only  creator, 
and  so  far  as  we  love  purely  we  are  par- 
takers in  the  Creator. 

The  new  being,  born  into  the  world 
with  its  divine  and  its  human  heredity,  will 
now  try  to  find  its  way  in  this  new  exist- 
ence. Through  its  human  organs  of 
taste,  touch,  sight,  hearing  and  smell, 
God  works,  and  stirs  these  human  tenden- 
cies to  open  out  to  the  external  world. 
These  bound  its  little  horizon.  After  a 
while  it  desires  to  recover  the  sensations 
produced  by  the  exercise  of  these  organs, 
anti  so  memory  is  born.  Life  is  now  con- 
scious life;  it  has  entered  into  the  world 
of  events.  Thence  it  goes  into  the  realm 
of  understanding,  and  then  ascends  the 


stairway  into  phantasy,  or  the  power  of 
expressing  its  experiences,  and  thence  it 
begins  to  generalize  truths,  and  reaches 
the  realms  of  reason.  But  it  wishes  to 
clothe  truth  with  beauty,  and  so  enters 
the  realm  of  imagination,  and  at  last  the 
realm  of  right,  and  then  it  reascends  into 
the  spirit  and  becomes  one  with  God,  — a 
true  person. 

But  the  nursery  and  other  institutions 
of  the  world  must  help  the  soul.  Although 
it  may  have  a heavenly  heritage,  its  pro- 
tectors must  be  true  lovers,  else  its  life 
will  not  be  expanded  nor  taught  what  to 
do.  Then  its  divine  attributes  will  be 
preserved.  But  if  its  protectors  are  not 
truly  related  by  love,  or  if  its  ancestry  is 
not  pure,  it  will  at  some  time  break  out 
into  the  faults  of  its  ancestors.  The  sep- 
aration from  its  personality  or  its  likeness 
to  God  is  sin.  The  soul  cannot  sin  unless 
it  knows  the  right.  If  it  is  ignorant  of 
the  right,  it  only  errs  or  mistakes ; if  it 
knows  the  right  and  wilfully  does  the 
wrong,  it  sins,  and  thus  becomes  individ- 
ualized or  separated  from  God,  though  it 
cannot  be  entirely  separated.  Love  unites  ; 
everything  else  separates.  Unless  love  is 
the  sentiment  that  unites  all  in  one,  the 
institutions  of  life  will  crumble  and  fall  to 
pieces. 

So  the  soul  passes  through  this  world 
wdth  all  its  virtues  and  vices,  and  at  last 
the  time  conies  for  it  to  pass  into  a new 
existence.  If  it  has  maintained  its  youth- 
ful innocence  and  followed  its  divine  in- 
stincts, then  it  will  pass  away  as  if  it  had 
not  journeyed  through  this  world.  Such 
souls  have  already  passed.  They  have 
never  been  away  from  God  ; and  in  their 
new  existence  they  are  just  what  they 
were  here,  clothed  anew  in  garments  fitted 


The  Symbolism  of  Color. 


149 


for  communication  with  the  beings  of  that 
other  world.  But  if  they  have  not  been 
true  to  what  is  highest  in  them,  they  are 
still  separate  from  God  in  that  other  world. 
The  type  of  divine  life  is  in  the  mind  of 
God,  and  so  far  as  we  share  that  type  we 
are  divine. 

As  to  our  memory  of  what  has  hap- 
pened here,  we  shall  remember  what  and 
whom  we  have  loved,  and  forget  all  else. 
We  shall  not  wish  to  remember  that  which 
we  do  not  love,  but  the  memory  of  all  that 
we  have  loved  here  we  shall  carry  with  us, 
as  we  brought  with  us  from  that  other 
world  the  memory  of  that  which  we  loved 
there.  They  who  have  loved  one  another 
here  will  know  one  another  hereafter. 

Whether  we  obe}'  or  disobey  the  divine 
laws  lies  within  our  own  choice.  We  are 
free,  and  can  choose  to  do  well  or  ill. 
And  if  we  sin  and  desire  to  return  to 
that  state  whence  we  have  fallen,  we  have 
only  to  seek  it.  We  need  only  to  turn  to 


God  with  all  our  heart  in  order  to  find  him 
again.  The  soul  is  eternal  ; it  had  no 
beginning,  and  so  it  can  have  no  end  ; for 
only  that  which  has  had  a beginning  in 
time  can  have  an  end,  and  the  soul  always 
has  been.  Our  life  began  in  the  spring ; 
let  us  see  that  it  ends  in  the  spring,  — the 
spring  of  love  and  innocence  and  purity. 

The  lecture  called  forth  a long  and  ani- 
mated discussion  upon  immortality,  in  which 
the  Rev.  Dr.  R.  A.  Holland  questioned  re- 
garding the  relations  of  immortality  to  pre- 
existence. Mr.  Alcott  replied  that  souls 
never  came  into  time.  The  soul  is  a uni- 
versal, and  cannot  enter  the  particular. 
But  the  soul  manifests  itself  in  objects 
which  are  in  time.  He  said  that  human 
heredity  gives  ex-istence  ; but  the  subsist- 
ence of  the  soul  was  with  God  from  all 
eternity.  A'.'r-istence  is  the  coming  out 
from  God,  the  incarnation  in  the  flesh. 
In  God’s  mind  souls  subsist  as  ideas,  but 
their  ez-istence  is  in  time  ; it  begins  here. 


Twenty-First  Day-,  — August  9. 


THE  SYMBOLISM  OF  COLOR. 


BY  GEORGE  PARSONS  LATHROP.1 


f I X)  see  is  only  a language,  said  Mr. 

Lathrop,  quoting  Coleridge ; but  to 
know  that  the  sky  is  blue  and  roses  are 
crimson  is  to  know  only  a few  letters  of 

1 George  Parsons  Lathrop  was  born  Aug.  25,  1851,  of 
American  parents,  in  Honolulu,  Island  of  Oahu,  in  the 
Sandwich  Islands.  His  father  was  wholly  of  New  Eng- 
land  stock,  and  his  mother  nearly  so.  He  is  a kinsman,  on 
his  father’s  side,  of  John  Lothrop  Motley  and  Oliver  Wen- 
dell Holmes,  both  of  whom  trace  back  to  John  Lathrop 
[Scituate  and  Barnstable,  1634],  as  an  ancestor.  On  his 
mother’s  side  is  some  Beotch-Irish  blood  and  a descent 
from  the  half-sister  of  William  Penn.  Also,  through  a 
collateral  branch  on  his  father’s  side,  he  is  of  the  posterity 
of  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather.  He  came  to  the  United 
States  with  his  parents  in  1858,  and  went  to  school  in  Os- 
wego, N.  Y.,  and  New  York  City.  In  1867  he  went  to 
Dresden,  Germany,  and  took  a three  years  course  in  a 
gymnasium.  Then  he  went  to  New  York,  where  he  studied 


the  alphabet.  Even  to  note  the  physical 
genesis  of  such  phenomena  is  but  one  step 
toward  a true  insight.  Mr.  Lathrop  then 
gave  the  scientific  view  of  color  as  a sen- 

law  one  year  at  the  Columbia  College  Law  School.  After 
a brief  sojourn  in  the  office  of  Evarts,  Southmayd  and 
Choate,  he  decided  to  devote  himself  wholly  to  literature 
and  journalism.  He  went  to  London  in  1871,  and  there 
married  Miss  Rose  Hawthorne,  Sept.  11, 1871.  He  returned 
to  America  in  January,  1872,  and  to  Massachusetts,  Anally 
settling  at  Concord  in  January,  1879.  He  published  in 
1875,  “Rose  and  Roof-tree,”  a volume  of  poems  now  out 
of  print;  in  1876,  “A  Study  of  Hawthorne”;  in  1S77, 
“Afterglow”;  in  1878,  “ Somebody  Else  ” (novelette),  and 
edited  “A  Masque  of  Poets”;  in  1882,  “In  the  Distance,” 
“An  Echo  of  Passion,”  and  “Spanish  Vistas.”  From 
the  spring  of  1875  to  the  summer  of  1877  he  was  assistant 
editor  of  the  “ Atlantic  Monthly.”  From  the  autumn  of 
1877  to  18S0  he  was  editor  of  the  “Boston  Courier.” 


1 5° 


The  Symbolism  of  Color. 


sation  in  the  eye,  a creation  of  our  own 
from  waves  of  light.  Professors  of  science 
are  usually  content  with  describing  color 
as  a sensation.  But  behind  the  nerve- 
fibrils  and  “seeing  purple”  of  the  retina 
we  must  look  for  a deeper  principle.  This 
is  found  in  an  opposition  of  light  and 
dark  and  a striving  after  unity,  producing 
a vast  variety  of  colors  according  as  light 
and  dark  are  combined.  As  Goethe  said, 
“ Color  is  law-abiding  nature  in  relation 
to  the  sense  of  the  eye  ; ” and  throughout 
nature  we  find  a movement  of  separation 
and  union,  repulsion  and  attraction,  action 
and  reaction,  constantly  demanding  some 
form  of  life.  The  same  law  of  opposition 
and  unity  pervades  all  our  perceptions  and 
is  finally  discovered  in  thought,  the  con- 
trast of  real  and  ideal,  object  and  subject, 
and  their  union  in  self-conscious  spirit  or 
the  Ego.  This  leads  directly  to  the  con- 
ception of  an  infinite  spirit  as  the  first 
principle,  to  which  we  are  ushered  through 
the  portal  of  color.  Color,  then,  is  the 
impress  of  our  own  minds  on  the  external 
world  ; and  in  that  impress  we  discover 
beauty7,  relation,  balance,  order. 

As  a reality-giving  illusion,  color  may 
be  called  the  visible  speech  of  imagina- 
tion ; but  it  also  aids  insight,  as  shown  in 
the  use  astronomers  make  of  it  in  dis- 
tinguishing planets  from  stars,  and  in  the 
discovery  that  the  sun  is  really  blue  or 
green.  Suggestions  of  infinity  were  pointed 
out  in  it,  and  then  Goethe’s  observation  of 
color  as  a token  of  ascending  physical 
forms  was  retraced.  Form  represents 
fixity,  isolation  ; color  indicates  change, 
flowing,  relation,  and  hence  helps  the 
mind  to  pass  from  perception  to  reflection. 

Mention  of  color  in  literature  was  next 
taken  up,  and  the  growth  of  a color  vocab- 
ulary. First,  bright  colors  predominated 
in  poetry  ; but  a totality  was  reached  only 
when  the  beauty  of  dark  ones  was  ob- 
served too.  This  came  with  the  growing 
importance  of  landscape  in  literature,  and 
accompanied  a general  movement  of  mind 


toward  emancipation.  But  there  is  a much 
subtler  kind  of  coloring.  What  does  Em- 
erson’s “color  of  romance”  mean?  It 
was  born  of  Wordsworth’s  “light  that 
never  was  on  sea  or  land,”  and  streams 
from-  the  imagination.  Words  possess 
color,  as  well  as  sound  and  form,  and 
exercise  a mutually  modifying  influence. 
If  they  did  not  in  this  way  give  us  a total- 
ity of  impressions,  they  would  have  no 
meaning ; for  music  has  both  sound  and 
form,  and  if  that  were  all  that  is  needed, 
wre  could  dispense  with  language  and  com- 
municate by  melodies.  The  peculiar  cor- 
respondence between  sounds  and  colors 
was  alluded  to.  As  color  in  nature  indi- 
cates relation,  so  words  give  a surface- 
scale  of  relation,  connected  w7ith  the  deeper 
insight  of  imagination  which  goes  into  in- 
terior relations.  Ideas  imparted  in  emo- 
tion, passion,  sentiment,  through  carefully 
combined  words,  in  a style  depending  on 
the  author’s  temperament,  produce  literary 
coloring,  which  appeals  to  and  is  appre- 
hended by7  feeling.  Sombre  or  enlivening 
effects  cannot  be  produced  without  a sense 
of  darkening  or  brightening.  Contrast 
the  impression  made  by  Hawthorne  and 
Dickens.  The  lecturer  here  read  from 
Carly  le  and  Gibbon,  in  illustration. 

Progress  is  always  accompanied  by7 
color.  This  was  shown  by7  the  lecturer  in 
the  history  of  painting,  where,  as  in  lit- 
erature, it  accompanied  emancipation  of 
the  human  spirit.  American  literature 
suffers  from  a repression  of  color.  Bryant 
carefully7  estimates  the  sentiment  of  nature 
in  place  of  feeling  it  swiftly7  and  deeply. 
AVith  Longfellow  the  play  of  emotion  is 
mild  and  timid,  and  the  whole  coloring  of 
his  verse  conventionally  faint.  Yet  in- 
stances of  more  rounded  development  are 
not  wanting.  We  cultivate  music  ; a school 
of  painting  is  in  growth ; and  even  the 
greater  taste  for  poetic  interior  decoration 
is  a good  sign,  since  the  color  of  house- 
adornment  has  always  corresponded  to  the 
temper  of  the  times  and  is  bright  and 


The  Symbolism  of  Color. 


temperate  in  proportion  to  refinement. 
Color  in  art,  while  engaging  us  by  its 
sensuous  charm,  is  intensely  spiritual, 
bringing  spirit  and  sense  close  together 
through  the  most  ideal  of  the  senses, 
siorht,  in  which  it  is  the  liveliest  factor. 
If  great  epochs  of  color  in  art  have  ended 
in  debasement,  it  was  corruption  from 
within  which  destroyed  the  faculty  of 
color,  which  also  comes  from  within  ; and 
not  because  splendid  color  from  without 
corrupted  the  mind.  When  society  shall 
have  been  purified  and  human  brotherhood 
makes  universal  love  the  motive  of  art, 
color  will  become  dominant  and  be  health- 
ily sustained. 

Color  has  led  us  on  through  nature, 
literature  and  art  to  a completer  knowl- 
edge of  spiiit.  Comparing  it  in  each  de- 
partment, we  get  a perfect  chord.  Soul 
began  and  soul  ends  the  octave.  Art 
should  not  be  placed  below  philosophy, 
because  it  creates,  instead  of  abstracting  ; 
unites  sense  and  spirit,  consciousness  and 
unconsciousness,  thought  and  emotion,  as 
they  actually  present  themselves.  If  I 
strike  a note  on  the  piano,  and  hold  it, 
my  ear  will  presently  supply  the  appro- 
priate third  and  fifth,  and  I shall  have  a 
perfect  chord.  So,  too,  when  we  now 
behold  a beautiful  tint,  we  shall  — if  we 
have  held  the  first  note  firm  — supply  in- 
tervals in  literature,  art  and  the  nature  of 
mind,  and  at  once  establish  a far-reaching 
harmony.  The  deep  principle  in  that  liar 
mony  is  the  Absolute,  the  divine  love  ; 
contemplating  which,  we  shall  merge  in  it 
the  will  of  self-consciousness,  like  Dante 
when  he  lost  the  triple  hue  of  the  Trinit}' 
in  the  dazzling  radiance  of  Christ : — 

“ The  glorious  Vision  here  my  powers  o’er- 
came ; — 

But  now  my  will  and  wish  were  swayed  by 
Love 

Love,  at  whose  word  the  sun  and  planets 
move.” 

But  even  to  this  exalted  stage  color  fol- 
lows us,  in  the  realm  of  art.  Form  and 
outline  there,  as  in  nature,  represent  fixity 


w 

and  limit ; opposed  to  which,  color  types 
succession  and  the  unlimited,  thus  be- 
coming a means  for  the  suggestion  and 
symbolizing  of  infinity.  But  since  color 
is  also  the  artistic  medium  for  emotion 
and  sentiment,  it  carries  with  it  into 
infinity  the  thought  and  feeling  of  love. 
Thus,  with  the  aid  of  color,  art  at  its  best 
sums  up  all  that  we  can  present  to  our- 
selves in  the  way  of  knowledge.  In  it, 
sense,  spiiit,  infinite  love,  are  concrete 
and  living  ; conjoined  in  beauty  and  joy, 
even  as  we  find  them  in  the  universe.  It 
therefore  supplies  what  philosophical  ab- 
straction, however  grandly  poetizing,  can- 
not b}'  itself  impart. 

True,  art  is  unconscious  ; and  the  un- 
conscious is  not  higher  than  the  conscious. 
But  though  the  artist  is  said  to  work  un- 
consciously, he  does  not  work  wholly  so. 
He  has  an  insight  which  he  cannot  define 
except  by  embodying  it  in  created  forms  ; 
and  even  then  he  knows  that  much  of  the 
meaning  which  he  has  put  there  must  be 
left  for  others  to  discover.  He  seizes  his 
theme  on  the  concrete  side  and  by  such  a 
divination  with  all  his  faculties  at  once, 
that  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  be  cogni- 
zant of  all  the  steps  in  the  process.  Com- 
plete self-consciousness  at  such  a time 
would  simply  destroy  the  creation,  or  ren- 
der the  act  impossible.  Therefore  his 
mind  draws  around  itself  a veil ; a fine 
protective  sheath  is  spontaneously  formed 
for  it.  It  is  the  apocah'pse  of  the  uncon- 
scious ; for  in  his  high  and  rapt  state  he 
takes  up  into  himself  the  ordinarily  lower 
condition  of  unconsciousness  and  gives  it 
a loftier  manifestation,  revealing  its  true 
place  as  a factor  in  the  economy  of  ex- 
istence. Color  is  present  in  art  as  a sym- 
bol of  its  superior  healthiness.  But  in  the 
future  we  may  expect  a philosophy  that 
shall  also  be  poetry  and  art  united  in  a 
pervasive  religious  sentiment  — a triune 
knowledge  that  shall  combine  under  the 
highest  types  of  creation  all  the  activities 
of  spirit,  developed  in  perfect  and  joyous 
health. 


i5  2 


Ficldes  Destination  of  Man. 


FICHTE’S  DESTINATION  OF  MAN. 

BY  DR.  HARRIS. 


TjMTCHE  published  his  first  sketch  of 
A-  the  science  of  knowledge,  his  great 
philosophic  work,  in  1794.  The  publica- 
tion of  his  works  on  the  science  of  rights 
and  the  science  of  morals  led  to  a charge 
of  atheism  against  him,  inasmuch  as  he 
sets  up  the  doctrine  of  a moral  world-order 
in  place  of  a personal  God.  The  result  of 
this  attack  was  Fichte’s  withdrawal  from 
the  University  of  Jena,  and  his  removal 
to  Berlin  in  1799,  where  he  began  a 
new  exposition  of  his  science  of  knowl- 
edge, which  he  published  in  1801.  In 
1809  Fichte  became  a professor  in  the 
University  of  Berlin,  and  continued  in 
that  office  to  his  death,  in  1814.  After 
reaching  Berlin,  in  1799,  he  first  wrote  a 
sketch  of  his  whole  system,  intending  it 
as  a popular  exposition.  It  is  fiery  and 
dramatic  in  style  and  sublime  in  its  concep- 
tions. It  resembles  somewhat  the  tenth 
and  eleventh  chapters  of  the  Bhagavad 
Gita.  This  exposition  he  gave  the  prac- 
tical title  of  the  “Vocation  of  Man” 
(“Bestimmung  des  Mensclien”) — man’s 
destined  function  in  the  world.  This 
popular  presentation  of  his  doctrine  pre- 
ceded the  second  systematic  presentation 
of  the  science  of  knowledge  b}'  one  year. 
It  has  furnished  the  chief  source  of  knowl- 
edge of  Fichte’s  system  to  English-speaking 
people,  and  indeed,  because  of  its  pro- 
digious force  of  statement  and  sharp,  clear 
contrasts  of  views,  it  has  until  recently 
exercised  a wider  influence  than  any  other 
work  of  German  philosophy. 

Dr.  Harris  said  that  in  his  next  lecture 
he  should  discuss  the  science  of  knowledge 
itself.  For  the  present  he  would  sketch 
the  merest  outline  of  its  doctrine  in  order 
to  exhibit  the  frame-work  to  which  the 
details  of  “The  Vocation  of  Man”  are 


attached.  Fichte  attempts  to  give  a more 
systematic  exposition  to  the  system  of 
Kant,  and  accordingly  unites  into  one  the 
two  critiques  — the  one  on  the  “Pure 
Reason”  and  the  one  on  the  “Practical 
Reason.”  lie  deduces  their  point  of  view 
from  an  investigation  of  self-consciousness. 
He  asserts  the  fundamental  fact  of  our 
knowledge  to  be  that  we  find  the  self  or 
Ego  limited  by  a not-self  or  non-Ego. 
The  me  and  its  identity,  the  not-me  and  its 
difference  from  the  me,  — these  are  the  pri- 
mary principles  united  in  the  first  affirma- 
tion of  self-consciousness.  The  me  affirms 
itself  to  be  limited  through  the  not-me. 
This  contains  two  views  ; the  first  being 
the  basis  of  the  “ Critique  of  Pure  Reason,” 
and  the  second  the  basis  of  the  “ Practical 
Reason.”  “The  me  affirms  itself,”  etc.  ; 
in  this  the  me  appears  as  active.  But  it 
affirms  itself  to  be  determined  or  limited 
through  the  not-me  ; here  the  me  appears 
as  passive.  In  the  former  case  the  Ego 
appears  as  cause  acting  upon  the  world, 
and  hence  as  will,  and  this  gives  the  prac- 
tical part  of  the  science  of  knowledge.  In 
the  latter  part  the  me  appears  as  limited 
through  the  not-me  or  the  world,  and  thus 
gives  the  basis  of  the  theoretical  or  first 
part  of  the  science  of  knowledge.  Each  of 
these  two  parts  again  should  have  a two- 
fold exposition  containing  a theoretical 
view  of  both  factors  in  the  first  instance 
and  a practical  view  in  the  latter. 

Fichte  is  essentially  the  greatest  genius 
in  pyschology  that  the  world  has  seen. 
He  is  able  to  discriminate  in  the  sharpest 
manner  between  activities  in  the  sonl  that 
are  seldom  brought  into  consciousness. 
His  mind’s  eye,  like  that  of  the  miner’s, 
long  used  to  see  in  the  dark,  can  define 
with  precision  what  has  escaped  other 


Fichte's  Destination  of  Man. 


T53 


philosophers.  But  he  pays  the  penalty  for 
his  superhuman  vision  into  the  activities 
of  the  mind,  bj’  a blindness  toward  the 
world  of  nature  and  human  history,  and 
especially  toward  the  realm  of  the  beauti- 
ful in  art.  He  is  only  a stern  moralist  on 
his  side  of  practical  life  — “ a Cato  major 
among  degenerate  men,”  as  Carlyle  calls 
him.  On  the  side  of  the  passivity  of  the 
Ego  he  finds  the  standpoint  of  materialistic 
realism  which  affirms  all  active  causes  to 
belong  to  nature  and  makes  consciousness 
to  be  a product  of  external  forces.  But 
through  the  fact  that  the  me  affirms  or 
posits  itself  in  all  its  perceptions  and  will 
not  have  any  object  before  itself  unless  it 
consents  to  give  its  attention  to  it,  there  is 
a basis  for  idealism  such  as  that  of  Berke- 
ley or  of  Leibnitz,  who  explain  the  phe- 
nomena of  consciousness  through  its  own 
activity  and  self-determination.  Idealism 
affirms  causality  to  reside  wholl}'  in  the 
non-Ego.  But  the  fundamental  fact  found 
on  analysis  of  knowledge  is  that  one  al- 
ready named,  viz.:  “The  Ego  affirms 
itself  to  be  limited  by  a non-Ego.”  In 
this  there  is  activity  or  causality  on  both 
sides,  and  hence  reciprocal  action  is  the 
true  result  and  the  one  that  Kant  and 
Fichte  himself  insist  upon,  and  which  the 
latter  calls  ideal  realism. 

With  this  view  of  the  Ego  as  both  active 
and  passive  in  relation  to  a non-Ego, 
Fichte  comes  to  the  distinction  of  a finite 
Ego  from  a universal  Ego  ; for  this  dis- 
tinction of  the  me  and  not-me  takes 
place  within  the  consciousness.  Here 
arises  the  problem  of  the  finite  Ego.  It 
ought  to  be  brought  into  identity  with  the 
absolute  Ego.  As  theoretical  Ego  it  can- 
not be  identical  with  the  absolute,  because 
it  is  theoretic,  always  a me  opposed  to  a 
not-me  and  never  absolute.  But  as  will 
power  it  makes  its  thought  objective,  and 
imposes  its  own  ideas  upon  nature,  and 
thus  give  its  own  forms  to  external  things. 
In  this  activity  of  will,  therefore,  the  finite 
Ego  reaches  a synthesis  with  the  non-Ego, 


and  thus  comes  into  the  form  of  identity 
with  the  absolute  Ego,  by  degrees. 
This  process  of  practical  activity  of  man 
is  thus  a progressive  ascent  into  the  abso- 
lute me  out  of  the  finite  me  — it  is  the 
realization  of  an  absolute  ideal  and  will 
take  an  infinite  time.  Hence  man  is 
assured  of  immortal  life.  This  view  of  the 
solution  of  the  problem  of  the  finite  indi- 
vidual is  also  the  explanation  of  the  con- 
tradiction developed  in  the  theoretic  part 
of  the  science  of  knowledge,  namely,  be- 
tween the  Ego  and  non-Ego  — idealism 
and  realism.  For  now  it  is  seen  that  the 
activity  of  the  will  presupposes  an  exter- 
nal world  upon  which  it  may  act.  Hence 
the  world  exists  for  the  practical  Ego  in 
order  that  it  may  unite  with  the  absolute 
Ego,  and  thus  the  theoretical  Ego  finds 
itself  opposed  to  a non-Ego,  or  the  world. 

In  the  “Vocation  of  Man”  Fichte  be- 
gins with  his  discussion  of  materialistic 
realism  -which  places  all  causality  in  the 
object,  and  all  passivity  in  the  Ego.  Then 
he  discusses  idealism  in  a second  book, 
and  in  a third  book  the  doctrine  of  the 
practical  reason,  or  the  explanation  of 
nature  and  human  life,  or  the  principle  of 
discipline,  or  the  education  of  the  finite 
individual  through  reasonable  deeds  into 
union  with  the  absolute  Ego.  Book  first 
he  calls  doubt ; book  second,  knowledge  ; 
and  book  third,  faith.  Looking  upon 
the  external  world  as  the  exclusive  cause, 
we  find  it  everywhere  determined  through- 
out— each  thing  that  exists  is  what  it 
is  and  nothing  else.  But  we  see  also  that 
there  is  a round  of  ceaseless  change. 
Each  thing  becomes,  and  it  becomes  just 
what  its  antecedents  cause  it  to  become. 
The  totality  of  conditions  necessitates  each 
thing  to  be  this  or  that.  Change  is  not 
the  mere  beginning  and  ceasing  of  things, 
but  it  is  a transmutation  occasioned  bv 
forces  or  active  powers  ; all  is  connected 
together  as  one  whole,  and  nothing  could 
be  changed  without  piesupposing  a change 
of  the  whole.  The  grain  of  sand  on  the 


*54 


Fichte’s  Destination  of  Man. 


seashore,  if  it  lay  some  paces  farther 
inland  than  it  does,  would  have  required 
that  the  stormwind  that  drove  it  should 
have  been  stronger  than  it  was,  that  the 
preceding  state  of  weather  should  have 
been  different ; and  so  on  till  you  have  a 
different  temperature  of  the  air  and  a dif- 
ferent constitution  of  the  bodies  that  influ- 
enced the  temperature,  and  thus,  too,  a 
different  influence  on  the  fruitfulness  or 
unfruitfulness  of  countries,  and  through  this 
a change  in  the  duration  of  human  life.  In 
fact,  if  you  change  the  causes  that  carried 
this  grain  of  saud  to  its  place  you  may  re- 
quire a change  that  would  have  caused  an 
ancestor  to  die  of  hunger,  cold  or  heat, 
and  thus  you  might  have  never  been  at  all, 
and  all  that  you  have  done,  or  hoped  to 
do,  must  have  been  prevented  in  order 
that  a grain  of  sand  lie  in  a different 
place. 

This  doctrine  of  fatalism,  which  re- 
sults from  the  realistic  hypothesis,  is  de- 
veloped with  increasing  power  to  the  end. 
All  possible  objections  are  canvassed  and 
answered,  and  the  dismal  consequences  to 
the  human  soul  are  painted  in  vivid  colors. 
Even  the  delusive  appearance  of  freedom 
that  man  has,  and  his  seeming  independ- 
ence ancl  individuality  distinct  from  all 
others,  is  explained  ; more  than  this,  his 
phenomona  of  moral  sense  and  crime  and 
sin  and  repentance  are  all  accounted  for 
on  materialistic  principles  that  are  deduced 
from  natural  necessity.  Then  the  horror 
of  the  soul,  as  it  finds  itself  enmeshed  in 
fatalism,  and  its  hopes  and  aspirations  all 
quenched,  is  described  pathetically. 

Book  second,  or  knowledge,  assumes 
the  opposite  theoretical  principle  which 
places  causality  all  in  the  Ego.  It  is 
written  as  a dialogue  between  the  Ego  and 
a spirit.  That  fatalistic  world  which  re- 
duced the  soul  to  a mechanism  is  swiftly 
demolished  by  dialectic,  and  the  Ego  is 
convinced  of  its  internal  powers  of  forma- 
tion and  production.  The  spirit  lifts  the 
veil  that  hides  unconscious  activilies  of 


thought,  and  reveals  most  astonishing 
processes  that  enter  into  the  psychologic 
activities  of  sense-perception  and  reflec- 
tion. In  all  perception  the  Ego  perceives 
only  its  own  condition.  It  is  conscious 
of  a modification  of  itself  in  sensation. 
It  infers  objects,  but  its  sensations  are  not 
objects,  but  onty  a feeling  of  its  own 
states.  Again,  these  sensations  are  suc- 
cessive ; in  order  to  cognize  extended 
surfaces  a very  complicated  system  of  in- 
ference is  implied.  The  dialogue  passes 
over  into  a discussion  of  the  principle  of 
causality,  which  has  been  used  as  a ladder 
to  enable  the  Ego  to  add  to  the  knowl- 
edge which  it  had  of  its  own  feelings 
another  knowledge,  namely,  of  external 
things. 

The  spontaneity  and  freedom  of  the  Ego 
is  thus  shown  to  underlie  all  possible 
knowledge  of  the  external  world,  and 
hence  whatever  necessity  had  been  de- 
duced out  of  that  world  in  the  stage  of 
doubt  certainly  must  have  been  loaned  to 
that  external  world  unconsciously  through 
that  principle  of  causality  which  affirmed 
the  existence  of  that  world.  Then  the 
steps  which  enable  the  mind  to  conceive 
the  ideas  of  space  and  time  are  adduced 
and  minutely  described.  In  this  part 
Fichte  proves  his  high  claim  to  be  the 
psychologist  pa?-  excellence.  [Further  dis- 
cussion of  this  point  in  the  next  lec- 
ture.] Then  the  negative  results  of  this 
doctrine  of  idealism  are  shown.  The  Ego 
finds  itself  in  possession  of  pictures  only*. 
Not  only  nature  and  human  history  are 
mere  subjective  fancies,  but  the  Ego  itself 
is  only  such  a picture,  “ merely  a confused 
picture  of  pictures.”  Thought,  the  source 
of  all  being  and  all  the  reality  which  I 
imagine  of  my  being,  of  1113’  powers,  and 
myT  own  purposes,  is  the  dream  of  a 
dream.  After  the  inadequacy  of  idealism 
to  satisfy  the  aspirations  of  the  soul  is 
exhibited,  the  third  book,  or  faith,  takes 
up  the  problem  and  shows  its  solution  in 
rational  or  moral  aclivit}’  byr  which  the 


Fichte’s  Wissenschaftslehre  — Theoretical. 


155 


individual  man  unites  himself  to  the  ab- 
solute will  by  ever  pursuing  an  infinite 
ideal. 

The  greater  part  of  the  lecture  was 


taken  up  in  quoting  passages  from  the 
second  book,  and  in  criticising  Fichte’s 
oversight  in  regard  to  the  true  inference 
from  it. 


Twenty-Second  Day,  — August  10. 


FICHTE’S  WISSENSCHAFTSLEHRE  — THEORETICAL. 


BY  DR. 

HPHE  lecturer  began  by  characterizing 
the  different  tendencies  of  the  Greeks 
and  Germans,  both  being  nations  gifted 
in  theoretic  capacity.  The  Greek  was 
ontologic  and  saw  that  the  world  is  a 
revelation  of  reason.  The  German  is 
psychologic  and  sees  into  the  essential 
activities  of  reason  as  revealed  in  human 
thinking.  Greek  art  looks  upon  all  na- 
ture as  immediately  instinct  with  life. 
The  murmur  of  the  leaves  of  the  oak 
tree  is  the  voice  of  a dryad  that  haunts 
the  tree  ; another  nymph  dwells  hard  by 
in  that  fountain,  and  her  voice  is  heard 
in  the  babbling  of  its  rill.  Each  distinc- 
tion in  nature  seems  to  the  “Manteia”  of 
the  Greek  mind  to  have  its  origin  in  a 
distinct  personality  in  the  invisible  world  ; 
all  is  spiritual  or  rational.  Akin  to  the 
art  spirit  of  the  Greeks  is  the  scientific 
spirit  of  the  same  people,  in  that  it  ex- 
plains the  natural  by  rational  causes,  al- 
though science  differs  from  art  in  referring 
particular  phenomena  to  general  causes  or 
principles  rather  than  to  special  individual 
causes,  — such  personifications  as  nymphs 
and  gods.  To  refer  the  particular  to  the 
universal  is  the  essential  characteristic  of 
the  scientific  spirit,  and  the  culmination  of 
it  is  found  in  philosophy,  which  sets  up 
one  sole  principle  as  the  universal  ex- 
planation of  all  particulars.  In  Aristotle 
the  active  reason  is  the  absolute  that 
explains  all. 


HARRIS. 

The  German,  too,  has  an  art  that  cor- 
responds to  his  theoretic  principle.  Music 
expresses  the  slightest  shades  of  feeling, 
the  subtlest  movements  in  the  soul.  Its 
material  is  sound,  the  fleeting  vibrations 
in  air ; but  with  this  he  can  portraj  pro- 
cesses from  their  beginning  to  their  cessa- 
tion  and  describe  the  history  of  ethical 
collisions  from  their  inception  to  their 
resolution  by  the  might  of  eternal  prin- 
ciples. Music  and  a psychologic  tendency 
are  as  much  consonant  activities  of  the 
German  soul  as  the  plastic  art  and  onto- 
logic tendency  of  the  Greek  soul.  The 
German  movement  in  philosophy  is  com- 
pleted when  German  philosophy  rises  to  a 
point  of  view  in  psychology'  where  it  con- 
firms the  supreme  result  of  Greek  ontology 
as  found  in  Aristotle  and  Plato.  When 
German  philosophy-  finds  the  presuppo- 
sition of  psychology  to  be  the  creative 
reason  as  first  principle  of  the  world  and 
of  the  human  soul,  then  it  has  reached  the 
thought  of  Plato’s  divine  reason  as  the 
good  and  Aristotle’s  thought  of  reason  as 
its  own  object  and  as  purely  self-active. 

The  manifestation  of  the  national  genius 
for  insight  into  those  mental  processes 
hidden  from  the  view  of  all  common  re- 
flection was  noted  in  our  study'  of  Meister 
Eckhart,  and  in  Angelas  Silesius,  Leib- 
nitz, Lessing,  Goethe  and  others,  but  it 
seems  to  begin  a national  philosophy  in 
Kant.  The  “ Critique  of  Pure  Reason” 


Fichte’s  Wissenscliaftslehre  — Theoretical. 


156 

makes  us  acquainted  with  wonderful  at- 
tributes of  the  mind.  Time,  space,  quality, 
quantity,  relation  and  mode  are  shown  to 
be  a 'priori  possessions  of  mind,  which  it 
gets  by  looking  into  itself,  and  not  by 
deriving  them  from  experience.  These 
are  forms  of  mind,  therefore ; but  they7 
are  also  logical  conditions  of  all  existence 
in  the  world,  because  they  are  the  a priori 
conditions  of  the  existence  of  all  phenom- 
ena. This  result  is  in  harmony  with  Aris- 
totle’s theory.  But  Kant  did  not  draw 
exactly  this  conclusion.  He  said  that 
there  is  a world  of  things-in-themselves 
beyond  phenomena,  to  which  these  cate- 
gories and  intuitions  do  not  apply.  Our 
ideas  of  God,  freedom,  immortality  and 
creation  are  ideas,  too,  that  can  find  no 
corresponding  object  in  the  world.  But 
they  are  presupposed  in  every  deed  that 
we  perform.  Our  wills  imply  them  when- 
ever we  act. 

The  practical  reason  establishes  a faith 
in  these  ideas  that  transcends  all  experi- 
ence, although  theoretical  reason  cannot 
prove  them.  Fichte,  whose  genius  for 
seeing  mental  processes  seems  to  be 
much  greater  than  Kant’s,  although  we 
may  err  in  not  allowing  enough  for  the 
suggestions  he  receives  from  Kant,  has 
not  essentially  modified  the  Kantian  view 
as  given  in  the  two  critiques,  but  he  has 
added  very  remarkable  deductions  of  the 
ideas  of  time,  space,  quality,  quantity, 
causality,  substance,  matter,  and  similar 
general  thoughts.  His  reduction  of  the 
two  ciitiques  to  one  science  of  knowledge 
was  discussed  in  the  previous  lecture. 

His  “ Science  of  Knowledge  ” has  a gen- 
eral introduction  in  which  he  finds  the 
fundamental  basis  of  all  consciousness  to 
be  the  three  laws  of  identity,  distinction 
and  limitation — (a),  the  me  is  identical 
with  the  me  ; (b)  the  not-me  is  not  iden- 
tical with  the  me;  (c),  the  me  limits 
and  is  limited  by  the  not-me.  The  first 
and  second  principles  express  only  par- 
tially the  fact  of  consciousness,  but  the 


third  nearly  expresses  the  whole.  Every 
consciousness  gives  us  the  tact  of  mutual 
limitation  of  the  me  and  not-me.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  add,  “ Consciousness 
is  a whole  activity  that  distinguishes  with- 
in itself  a me  that  limits  and  is  limited  by 
a not-me,”  to  make  the  statement  com- 
plete. 

With  these  three  principles  Fichte  closes 
his  general  introduction  and  deduces  two 
parts  of  the  science,  a theoretical  and 
practical,  from  the  third  principle.  In  so 
far  as  consciousness  affirms  an  in-me  as 
limiting  the  me,  we  have  the  subject  of  the 
theoretical  science  of  knowledge  on  which 
we  must  explain  how  it  happens  that  na- 
ture seems  to  be  the  active  cause  with  the 
human  mind  its  result,  as  well  as  how  it 
happens  that  consciousness,  by  its  own 
activity,  produces  and  supports  this  ap- 
pearance of  a nature  that  limits  the  soul. 

The  second  part  of  the  science  of  knowl- 
edge is  called  practical.  It  considers  the 
part  of  the  third  principle  which  affirms 
that  the  me  limits  the  not-me.  In  every 
act  of  our  wills  we  may  cause  some  modi- 
fication in  the  objective  world  by  which  we 
may  reduce  the  quantity  of  it  that  is  alien 
to  the  me  fry  imposing  on  some  portion  of 
it  the  form  of  the  me.  If  we  could  realize 
our  wills  perfectly  we  should  leave  no 
alien  determination  in  the  not-me,  but 
transmute  it  all  into  forms  corresponding 
to  our  own  ideal. 

In  the  theoretical  part  of  the  science  of 
knowledge  as  indicated,  we  have  two 
phases  of  opposite  theses.  The  me  as  lim- 
ited by  the  not-me  affords  the  basis  of  all 
materialistic  realism.  It  holds  that  mind  is 
the  product  of  nature,  and  deduces  fatal- 
istic conclusions,  just  such  as  the  first  part 
of  the  “Vocation  of  Man”  expounded. 
Fichte  varies  in  his  expositions  of  his 
science  of  knowledge,  sometimes  leaving 
this  view  stated  as  a necessary  form  of 
thinking,  and  at  others  going  more  into 
the  details  of  its  deduction  from  conscious- 
ness. The  fact  that  consciousness  posits 


Fichte’s  Wissetmh aftsleli re  — Theoretical. 


T57 


or  affirms  this  limitation  of  the  me  by  the 
not-me  and  in  this  positing  is  self-active, 
makes  it  possible  to  refer  all  this  limita- 
tion to  the  me  acting  through  nature  as  an 
agent,  and  thus  the  other  part  of  the  theo- 
retical science  of  knowledge  is  the  basis  of 
idealism,  just  as  the  second  part  of  the 
“ Vocation  of  Man  ” expounded  it. 

But  Fichte  considers  idealism  to  be  as 
one-sided  as  materialism,  and  adopts  the 
critical  attitude  of  Kant,  which  justifies 
both  and  repudiates  both.  The  true  point 
of  view  should  include  both,  and  limit 
each  through  the  other,  just  as  the  third  gen- 
eral principle  unites  the  principles  of  iden- 
tity and  distinction.  But  in  the  idealistic 
phase  of  consideration  we  see  arise  the 
distinction  between  the  Ego  as  a whole  or 
the  entire  extent  of  consciousness,  and  the 
Ego  as  particular  element  of  it  which  is 
limited  bjT  the  non-Ego.  Here  the  uni- 
versal Ego  appears  as  that  which  limits 
the  particular  Ego  through  the  world  as 
the  non-Ego.  The  non-Ego  is  then  not 
the  opposite  of  the  universal  Ego,  but 
only  of  the  particular  Ego. 

Here  is  the  proper  transition  to  the 
practical  part  of  the  science  of  knowledge. 
For  here  appears  the  particular  or  finite 
Ego,  in  contrast  to  the  universal  or  abso- 
lute Ego,  and  hence  the  problem  of  union 
with  it  comes  distinctly  before  us.  How 
can  the  particular  Ego  become  the  univer- 
sal Ego  and  transcend  this  limitation 
through  the  non-Ego?  Fichte  answers 
that  he  can  begin  this  work  by  moral  ac- 
tivity. He  has  an  infinite  ideal ; let  him 
strive  to  realize  this  and  become  a moral 
being,  and  he  will  at  the  same  time  dimin- 
ish the  not-me. 

In  the  third  part  of  the  “ Vocation  of 
Man  ” we  saw  how  this  practical  science  of 
knowledge  is  developed.  First,  moral  ac- 
tion is  treated  ; next,  the  co-operation  with 
one’s  fellow-men  in  founding  a State  that 
secures  justice  and  freedom  to  all ; next, 
the  necessity  of  immortal  life  as  the  true 
condition  of  moral  action  : we  live  here  a 


segment  of  a life  that  goes  infinitely 
toward  the  absolute  Ego.  The  union 
with  the  absolute  is  an  infinite  progress 
and  demands  immortality.  Then  come 
his  considerations  on  the  nature  of  the  ab- 
solute ’will,  which  he  finds  presupposed 
by  the  vocation  of  man.  He  thinks 
that  personalit}’  limits  and  degrades  the 
absolute,  and  therefore  cannot  be  predica- 
ted of  the  absolute,  although  he  calls 
him  an  absolute  will  and  also  an  “ abso- 
lute Ego,”  an  expression  that  would  seem 
to  imply  personality. 

By  far  the  most  important  contribution 
of  Fichte  to  philosoplry,  as  intimated,  is 
his  deduction  of  categories.  He  deduces 
causalitj'  from  the  principle  'which  affirms 
that  the  non-Ego  determines  the  Ego,  and 
in  like  manner  derives  the  category  of  sub- 
stantiality from  the  other  principle  of  con- 
sciousness, that  the  Ego  affirms  itself  as 
determined  by  the  non-Ego,  and  thus 
makes  the  causality  of  the  not-me  an 
energy  derived  from  the  total  self-activity 
of  the  me.  In  his  secondary  develop- 
ments from  the  same  principles  he  deduces 
time  and  space.  Feeling  is  the  root  of 
all,  and  contains  states  which  are  not  co- 
existent, but  successive.  Consciousness 
is  always  a power  of  reflection,  for  it 
perceives  its  own  activity.  First,  it  per- 
ceives mere  feeling  ; secondly,  it  perceives 
its  feeling  or  sensation  in  a series  that 
occupies  time.  Here  time  becomes  ob- 
ject to  it  when  it  reflects  again,  for  it 
then  perceives  the  content  (sensation)  and 
the  form  (time)  of  its  activity.  Then  a 
third  reflection  perceives  the  form  of  the 
consciousness  of  time  and  its  content ; this 
is  the  idea  of  space.  A fourth  reflection 
of  the  consciousness  that  perceives  space, 
time,  and  their  contents  furnishes  the 
idea  of  causalitjq  and  a fifth  reflection  dis- 
covers substantiality.  Each  subsequent 
stage  of  reflection  sees  the  previous  stage 
as  a whole.  Take  the  idea  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  see  it  as  a totality,  and  you  have 
causa  sui , or  self-determination,  in  which 


ScJ/elling's  Later  Philosophy. 


!58 

the  effect  and  cause  do  not  fall  asunder  in 
place  or  in  time,  but  are  seen  as  perma- 
nent cause  and  permanent  effect,  and  thus 
as  substance  and  attribute.  So  the  idea 
of  space  is  that  of  the  reality  of  all  points, 
and  hence  of  infinite  lines  in  every  direc- 
tion, while  time  makes  only  one  point  real 
(the  now),  and  all  the  rest  as  unreal 
(past  or  future). 

The  idea  of  substantiality  of  self-deter- 
mination is  not  co-ordinate  and  antithetic 
to  the  idea  of  causality,  as  Fichte  sup- 
posed, but  transcendent  and  inclusive  of 
it.  Had  Fichte  seen  this,  he  would  have 


made  his  theoretical  science  of  knowledge 
reach  the  thought  of  the  Nous  of  Aristotle 
and  establish  the  principle  of  absolute 
reason  as  God.  Aristotle  would  have 
criticised  also  his  list  of  fundamental  prin- 
ciples, and  required  him  to  add  a fourth 
one  in  which  he  stated  both  sides  as  a 
self-determining  Ego,  instead  of  a “ divis- 
ible Ego  limited  by  a divisible  non-Ego.” 
The  identity  of  the  fundamental  principle 
of  nature  with  the  ideal  of  the  conscious 
Ego  would  thus  have  been  asserted  as  both 
theoretical  and  practical. 


SCHELLING’S  LATER  PHILOSOPHY. 

BY  PROFESSOR  WATSON. 


f PHE  Transcendental  Idealism,  which 
-L  was  sketched  in  the  last  lecture,  is, 
with  all  its  merits,  full  of  inconsistencies. 
In  particular,  it  leaves  the  relation  of  sub- 
ject and  object  badly  defined.  Nature, 
apart  from  intelligence,  at  once  lapses 
back  into  a mere  “ thing  in  itself.”  Schel- 
ling’s  final  attempt  to  combine  what  he 
had  put  asunder  b}T  means  of  the  poetic 
faculty  as  at  once  creative  and  uncon- 
scious is  a virtual  confession  of  failure, 
and  prepares  the  way  for  the  leap  into 
the  dark  which  he  soon  felt  himself  com- 
pelled to  make. 

The  great  imperfection  of  Schelling  is 
not  in  contrasting  man  and  nature,  but 
in  maintaining  the  complete  parallelism  of 
the  two  distinguishable  realms.  Instead 
of  this,  we  must  hold  that  the  latter  is 
simply  a lower  phase  of  the  former.  The 
onlj’  wonder,  in  fact,  is  how  Schelling  did 
not  see  at  the  time  he  wrote  the  Transcen- 
dental Idealism  that  the  parallelism  of 
nature  and  intelligence  necessarily  carried 
with  it  the  implication  of  a unity  tran- 
scending both — a unity  which  for  him  could 


only  be  that  in  which  they  agreed,  or  their 
“ absolute  indifference.”  The  source  and 
rationale  of  his,  as  of  all  other  pantheism, 
is  in  putting  the  objective  world  of  nature 
on  the  same  plane  with  intelligence. 

The  next  step  in  Schelling’s  philosophi- 
cal development  was  his  Philosoplry  of 
Identit}7.  Philosophy  of  nature  and  tran- 
scendental philosophy  are  the  opposite 
poles  of  his  philosophizing ; the  philos- 
ophy of  identity  starts  from  the  point  of 
indifference  and  goes  on  to  show  how  the 
opposite  poles  may  be  developed  from  it. 
The  whole  system  must,  therefore,  rest  not 
on  the  reflective  opposition  of  intelligence 
and  nature,  subject  and  object,  but  on  the 
production  of  all  reality  bj'  and  in  the 
absolute.  Schelling  begins  with  reason 
as  above  the  dualism  of  subject  and  object, 
and  proceeds  to  establish  the  identity  of 
the  two.  Philosophy  thus  shows  that  the 
onty  intelligible  meaning  of  “ things-in- 
themselves”  is  the  knowledge  of  things, 
or  rather  of  the  finite,  as  they  are  in  the 
absolute  reason. 

In  the  works  representative  of  Schel- 


T59 


Schelling's  Later  Philosophy . 


ling’s  last  phase  of  speculation,  he  vir- 
tually admits  the  imperfection  of  the 
Sj^stem  of  Identity,  and  attempts  to  show 
that  for  the  indeterminate  absolute  must 
be  substituted  a personal  God  and  for 
the  co-ordination  of  man  and  nature  the 
subordination  of  nature  to  a system  of 
free  beings.  Sehelling  at  a later  period 
expressly  avers  that  the  pantheistic  ab- 
sorption of  all  things  in  the  absolute  is 
a necessary  stage  toward  a genuine  mon- 
otheism. 

In  his  treatise  on  “ human  freedom”  he 
begins  with  some  general  remarks  on  pan- 
theism in  which  he  says  that  it  is  usuall}- 
held  that  pantheism  is  destructive  at  once 
of  all  individuality  and  of  all  freedom.  But 
neither  of  these  charges  can  be  substan- 
tiated. The  dead  and  motionless  pan- 
theism of  Spinoza,  spiritualized  by  ideal- 
ism, is  the  true  philosophy  of  nature ; 
which,  however,  must  be  carried  up  into 
a philosophy  of  spirit  resting  upon  the 
supremacy  of  free-will. 

Sehelling,  starting  from  the  absolute  in 
the  shape  of  pure  indifference  or  primal 
baselessness  as  it  had  been  reached  in  the 
system  of  identity,  goes  on  to  maintain 
that  God  first  appears  as  the  diremption 
of  existence  and  ground  in  order  that  he 
maj7  finally  transform  His  original  indif- 
ference into  identity,  and  thus  become  a 
self-conscious  person  or  will. 

The  lecturer  then  proceeded  to  show 
how  in  Sehelling  the  possibilit}'  of  evil  is 
reconciled  with  the,  personality  of  God, 
and  further  to  explain  the  actual  existence 
of  evil.  The  next  thing  to  be  explained 
is  how  the  individual  man  comes  to  decide 
for  good  or  evil.  Sehelling  accepts  Kant’s 
distinction,  and  says  that  in  his  “intelli- 
gible character  ” man  is  taken  out  of  the 
chain  of  mechanical  causation.  The  em- 
pirical man  is  not  free,  yet  his  empirical 


nature  is  the  product  of  his  own  free  act 
as  out  of  time.  His  acts  in  time  are  pre- 
destinated, but  predestinated  by  himself, 
for  he  acts  from  no  necessity  but  that 
of  his  own  nature.  Evil  is  a necessity  in 
the  process  toward  the  complete  realiza- 
tion of  the  good. 

The  main  value  of  Schelling’s  later 
philosophy  lies  in  its  vivid  presentation  of 
problems  for  solution  and  in  its  prophecy 
of  the  reconciliation  of  contradictions 
which  it  does  not  itself  reconcile.  In  his 
last  stage  he  was  led  to  see  the  necessity 
of  maintaining  the  personality  of  God  and 
of  seeking  for  a reconciliation  of  that  per- 
sonalit}'  with  the  freedom  of  man.  His 
later  philosophy  was  mosthr  mysticism 
and  flashes  of  poetic  insight,  and  was  not 
arrived  at  by  a rational  and  well-ordered 
method.  Further,  it  must  be  said  that  he 
has  not  solved  the  problems  he  has  set 
himself  to  solve.  His  explanation  of  free- 
dom to  will  evil  or  good  as  due  to  a time- 
less act  really  explains  nothing,  and  is 
further  away  from  a true  explanation  than 
the  view  of  Kant  which  it  affects  to  im- 
prove, but  really  distorts.  He  is  not 
more  successful  in  reconciling  the  fact  of 
evil  with  the  goodness  of  God. 

The  lecturer  then  discussed  Schelling’s 
philosophy  as  a whole,  pointing  out  that 
the  starting  point  and  goal  of  his  specula- 
tions seem  to  be  diametrically  opposed. 
But  the  advance  from  a literal  interpreta- 
tion of  Kant’s  position  to  that  of  its  spirit 
well  accounts  for  Schelling’s  development 
from  the  denial  of  a transcendent  God 
to  the  affirmation  of  His  reality.  The  eth- 
ical idealism  of  Schelling’s  first  phase  of 
thought  — au  idealism  without  God  — 
could  not  be  permanently  satisfactory  to 
one  who  had  drunk  deep  of  the  spring  of 
critical  idealism. 


i6o 


The  Symposium. 


Twenty-Third  Day,  — August  11. 


THE  SYMPOSIUM. 

BY  DR.  JONES. 


R.  JONES,  in  this  lecture,  finished 
his  second  course  of  four  lectures 
upon  “ Christian  Philosophy.”  Contrary 
to  his  practice,  he  talked  without  notes 
for  the  first  time  in  his  Concord  lectures, 
and  his  inspiration  was  more  complete 
than  when  he  was  limited  to  manuscript. 
His  subject  was  the  Symposium,  and  he 
took  “ The  Banquet”  of  Plato  for  his  text. 
Plato’s  symposium,  he  said,  was  not  a 
night’s  debauch  of  revellers.  Plato  is 
alwa3*s  metaphysical ; he  is  not  a scientist, 
for  physical  science  is  not  philosophy. 
By  way  of  parenthesis,  Dr.  Jones  said 
that  there  was  no  locking  of  horns  at 
Concord  with  science.  Science  was  not 
the  field  of  thought  at  Concord.  If  there 
were  an}'  antagonism,  it  was  between 
philosophy7  and  unscientific  philosophizing. 
In  the  “ Banquet”  the  characters  are  Soc- 
rates (salvation-power),  Glauco  (cerulean 
light),  Apollodorus  (priestly  office),  Pau- 
sanias  (temperance),  Aristophanes  (best 
appearance,  or  good  manners),  Phsedrus 
(beauty),  Eryximachus  (the  healing  art 
or  health),  Aristodemus  (the  best  social 
state  or  best  of  social  relations),  Agatho 
(goodness),  Diotima  (the  idea  of  divine 
love),  and  Alcibiades  (pride,  exalted  self- 
assumption,  or  the  worldly  man). 

The  principle  of  pride  in  the  conduct  of 
life  comes  in  last,  and  comes  in  drunk. 
It  works  in  all  men. 

In  this  drama  each  character  rehearses 
liis  opinion  of  life,  and  compared  with 
the  thoughts  expressed  by  them,  we 
know  not  what  vantage-ground  we  stand 
upon  in  having  the  oracles  of  God,  es- 
pecially here  in  America,  where  we  think 


we  can  get  along  without  the  “ old 
church,”  and  that  the  so-called  oracles 
or  scriptures  can  be  abolished.  Yet, 
compare  Christian  civilization  with  all 
other  civilizations  of  the  world  and  see 
how  Christ  being  lifted  up  hath  lifted  up 
all  the  world  with  him. 

Pausanias,  in  the  drama,  tells  why  it  is 
not  good  for  a man  to  get  drunk.  The 
doctrine  of  life  is  temperance  in  all  things. 
He  who  does  not  practise  it  has  surren- 
dered everything  which  makes  against 
vice,  has  surrendered  his  purity.  What 
has  he  who  refuses  to  give  up  tobacco 
done  under  the  first  injunction  of  the 
Christian  dispensation,  “ Deny  thyself, 
take  up  thy  cross  and  follow”  the  living? 
He  is  not  able  to  give  up  tobacco,  a thing 
which  makes  the  mouth  foul  and  nasty.; 
a thing  which  in  all  its  essential  relations 
to  the  animal  organism  is  utterly  obnox- 
ious ; a thing  from  which  the  uncontami- 
nated natural  sense  recoils  with  loathing. 
Yet  how  vigorously  we  conquer  that 
sense  ! We  cherish  an  intemperate  spirit, 
seeking  excitation  from  even  the  worst 
causes.  When  we  hgve  learned  to  love 
the  foul  poison,  we  shall  learn  to  love  other 
excitations  which  are  morally  impure. 
What  is  the  tendency  of  this  habit,  looked 
at  from  a social  point  of  view?  At  all 
decent  places  man  must  leave  it  out  of 
doors,  — in  your  parlors,  at  your  churches, 
and  wherever  are  presented  social  decency 
and  decorum.  But  go  down  to  your  hell- 
holes and  there  it  is  free.  There  are  tubs 
where  you  can  spit  your  tobacco-juice ; 
there  are  areas  provided  for  scattering  it 
around.  “That,”  said  Dr.  Jones,  “ is  the 


The  Symposium. 


161 


social  demonstration  of  the  character  of 
the  habit,  not  my  counterblast.  Present 
compan}"  is  always  excepted.  I do  not 
mean  to  speak  offensively.” 

Next  comes  Aristophanes.  He  was  a 
little  drunk  and  had  the  hiccoughs,  but  he 
got  over  that  and  made  his  speech.  He 
is  good  manners,  — appearing  at  one’s 
best.  In  civil  society,  in  cultivated,  in- 
telligent, moral,  virtuous,  religious,  hon- 
orable and  just  society,  we  discover  our 
relationship  to  one  another.  In  manners 
one  must  appear  at  his  best,  and  what- 
ever he  has  that  is  unseemly,  uncomely, 
ungentlemanly,  unmanly,  he  must  keep 
hidden  till  he  has  overcome  it.  He  is 
bound  to  present  himself  to  his  fellows  at 
his  best.  That  makes  good  society.  Good 
manners  tend  to  good  morals,  as  bad  man- 
ners tend  to  bad  morals.  “ I regret  some 
things  in  our  social  system,”  said  the 
speaker  ; “ I regret  that  our  young  people 
are  not  disciplined  so  much  in  outward 
manners  as  they  used  to  be.  When  I went 
to  school  manners  were  as  much  a subject 
of  discipline  as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
We  were  taught  modesty,  respect,  defer- 
ence, and  especially  reverence  to  our  su- 
periors in  age  and  condition.  I do  not 
discover  any  discipline  nowadays  looking 
to  that  end.” 

Eryximachus  makes  the  next  speech. 
He  is  the  physician.  Many  of  us  forget 
that  infirmity  is  not  commendable.  “I 
know,”  said  Dr.  Jones,  “ a young  ladies’ 
boarding  school  where  a certain  lacka- 
daisicalness is  a sort  of  recommendation. 
Beauty  and  health  go  together ; all  un- 
healthiness is  unbeautiful.  The  art  of 
discovering  the  beautiful  soul  is  the  art  of 
all  arts,  and  good  health  is  one  of  its 
indispensable  conditions.” 

Phsedrus  then  talks  of  the  sense  of 
beauty  in  the  soul.  If  it  were  cultivated 
from  childhood,  what  a wonderful,  new 
insight  into  the  world  it  would  give  ! Al- 
cibiades  then  makes  his  speech.  Pride  is 
always  drunk,  and  gets  mam*  a fall  accord- 


ing^. He  failed  to  appropriate  the  wis- 
dom of  Socrates.  Men  should  get  the 
true  wisdom,  not  live  to  regard  the  opin- 
ion of  others.  Wisdom  does  not  lend 
itself  to  the  use  of  pride  in  the  soul.  Dio- 
tima,  divine  love,  subsists  in  and  of  itself. 
If  we  cannot  behold  the  glory  which  is  in 
this  planet,  we  cannot  see  it  in  any  other 
place.  Some  ask,  “Why  not  eat  and  sleep 
and  die?”  Because,  in  the  first  place,  we 
cannot  die.  We  cannot  get  out  of  life,  even 
if  we  are  cowardly  enough  to  wish  it. 

Dr.  Jones  then  summarized  the  remainder 
of  the  dialogue,  and  showed  how  Socrates, 
as  a philosopher,  was  superior  to  other 
men  in  every  respect ; that  he  was  greater 
in  exertion,  endurance,  suffering  and  joy. 
He  then  spoke  of  God  being  as  truly  man- 
ifest in  this  life  as  he  is  an}’ where,  and  of 
the  probability  that  the  human  soul  can 
find  existence  as  happy  here  as  anywhere. 
This,  indeed,  was  the  leading  lesson  in  the 
entire  lecture.  For  all  that  men  can  know, 
the  soul  has  on  this  earth  as  high  a pos- 
sibility of  happiness  and  as  ample  an 
opportunity  for  attaining  it  as  can  be 
found  anywhere.  Hence  the  foil}’  of  look- 
ing upon  this  life  as  a wretched,  brief 
affair,  when  perhaps  it  is  the  very  best 
life  possible  for  the  soul.  Certainly  oppor- 
tunity exists  to  make  this  life  much  better 
than  most  men  do  make  it. 

Dr.  Jones  also  touched  upon  the  doc- 
trine of  pre-existence.  The  soul  is  of  an 
eternal  nature  and  exists  in  cycles,  going 
out  and  returning  to  itself,  being  made  in 
the  image  of  God.  Hence  he  did  not  be- 
lieve the  soul  was  limited  to  one  sphere  in 
the  universal  sphere  of  time  and  space. 
Human  history  is  merely  the  record  of 
souls  as  they  pass  through  nature.  The 
soul  has  always  existed  ; it  has  other  cy- 
cles than  this.  Christ  said,  “I  know 
whence  I come,  and  whither  I go,”  im- 
plying that  his  listeners  did  not  know 
whence  they  came,  but  that  they  had  ex- 
isted before  this  life.  When  we  see  more 
than  the  little  side-show  of  this  life,  we 


Atomism, 


162 


shall  see  the  soul  in  its  true  universality 
and  personality. 

In  the  discussion  following  the  lecture, 
Dr.  Alexander  Wilder  said  that  the  doc- 
trine of  pre-existence  was  held  in  the  early 
days  of  the  Christian  church,  and  was 
hinted  at  in  the  New  Testament,  in  the 
question,  “ Who  hath  sinned,  this  man  or 


his  parents,  that  he  was  born  blind?”  im- 
plying a previous  existence  on  the  man’s 
part;  also  in  the  current  conjecture  that 
Jesus  was  really  Elias,  Jeremias,  or  one 
of  the  prophets.  Miss  Peabody  supported 
Dr.  Jones’s  views,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  R.  A. 
Holland  and  Dr.  Harris  took  the  opposite 
side  of  the  question. 


ATOMISM. 

BY  THE  REV.  DR.  HOLLAND. 


A TOMISM  is  that  tendency  in  thought 
which  seeks  to  explain  big  mysteries 
by  an  equal  quantity  of  little  mysteries,  as 
if  a universe  of  pulverized  dust  were  not 
as  obscure  as  a universe  of  solid  unknowa- 
bleness. It  has  many  forms.  In  physical 
science  it  is  the  atomic  theory ; in  the 
science  of  knowledge  it  is  empiricism  ; in 
politics  it  is  individualism  ; in  art,  natural- 
ism ; and  in  ethics  it  identifies  good  with 
pleasure,  and  pleasure  with  pleasant  feelings 
or  sensations.  In  all  these  forms  it  has  the 
same  faults.  Nature  is  not  explained  by 
being  ground  to  powder  in  one’s  imagina- 
tion. Imperceptible  dust  does  not  make 
clear  the  object  of  perception.  The  im- 
perceptible is  only  another  name  for  the 
same  mystery  it  is  supposed  to  have  re- 
moved from  the  mind’s  sight.  The  infini- 
tesimal is  as  strange  as  the  infinite.  This 
fine  dust  of  worlds,  — what  is  it?  What 
moulds  it  into  earth,  and  sea,  and  air? 
Does  it  originate  its  own  motion?  How? 
Ify  simple  attraction  ? Attraction  alone 
would  draw  the  universe  into  a solid  mass, 
without  possibility  of  motion.  By  simple 
repulsion?  Repulsion  alone  would  scatter 
the  universe  out  of  all  possibility  of  form. 
Form  implies  bounds,  and  bounds  imply  a 
binding  force.  The  diffused  gas  must  have 
some  principle  of  continuity  to  distinguish 
it  as  a gas.  But  simple  repulsion  would 


destroy  all  continuity,  not  having  so  much 
as  space  for  the  atoms  to  exist  in  ; for 
space,  too,  must  have  limit  or  bound,  even 
if  the  bound  be  its  own,  which,  however, 
absolute  repulsion  would  explode  at  once, 
hurling  its  contents  to  uttermost  nowhere. 
If  both  attraction  and  repulsion  were  at 
work,  and  either  of  them  stronger  than  the 
other,  the  condition  of  things  would  soon 
become  the  same  as  if  there  were  but  one 
force.  One  would  finally  overcome  and 
nullify  the  other.  And  as  they  have  already 
had  infinite  time  for  the  trial  of  strength, 
it  must  have  been  decided  before  now 
whether  the  universe  were  to  be  mass 
without  motion,  or  motion  without  either 
mass  to  move  or  space  to  move  in.  More- 
over, if  the  two  opposing  forces  be  equal 
and  constant,  the  universe  would  have 
the  same  densit}’’  throughout  and  forever. 
Hence  every  atom  must  have  power  to  at- 
tract, power  to  repel,  and  a choice  which 
of  these  powers  to  use,  and  in  what  degree 
to  use  it  so  as  to  make  now  the  granite 
crag,  now  the  mosses  that  grow  in  its 
clefts,  and  now  the  cascade  that  breaks 
against  its  midway  ledges  into  a down- 
ward breeze  of  mist. 

Again,  if  the  atoms  were  in  contact  they 
would  be  no  longer  atoms,  but  a solid  mass, 
as  we  have  seen,  incapable  of  motion.  But 
if  they  are  apart  they  have  spaces  between 


Atomism. 


t63 


them,  and  these  spaces  are  voids,  and 
voids  are  nothings.  Now  nothings  cannot 
transmit,  cannot  undulate,  have  neither 
points  of  the  compass  nor  degrees  of  dis- 
tance. It  was  to  fill  up  just  such  an  abyss 
of  nothing,  between  the  earth  and  the  sun, 
that  science  poured  into  it  a sea  of  billow- 
ing ether  for  heat  and  light  to  drift  across. 
But  the  ether  turns  out  to  be  no  true  sea, 
if  composed  of  atoms  separated  by  voids. 
For  these  voids  need  each  to  be  filled  with 
ether  as  much  as  did  the  great  void  between 
the  earth  and  the  sun  ; and  should  other 
seas  of  ether  be  poured  into  them,  this 
ether  would  likewise  prove  to  be  atoms 
separated  b}T  voids  or  nothings. 

Since,  then,  the  least  void  or  nothing  is 
as  large  as  the  largest,  — nothing  divided 
by  ninety-five  million  miles  being  no  less 
than  nothing  multiplied  b}r  the  same 
amount,  — the  nearest  atoms  are  as  far 
apart  as  the  worlds  themselves,  and  leave 
the  universe  just  where  it  was  in  point  of 
mystery.  But  more  : how  will  science  form 
the  different  chemical  elements  except  by 
giving  the  atoms  different  weights  accord- 
ing to  their  equivalents  of  combination? 
But  differences  of  weight  are  differences  of 
density,  and  differences  of  density  are  dif- 
ferences of  distance  between  the  atoms 
combined  in  a given  space.  And  so  the 
atom  itself  which  was  to  be  the  utmost 
compression  of  matter,  — matter  in  its  sim- 
plest form,  irreducible  and  absolutely  solid, 
— turns  out  to  have  a whole  astronomy  of 
minor  atoms  separated  by  immeasurable 
abysses  of  nothing  within  its  own  private 
little  cosmos. 

The  lecturer  went  on  to  apply  the  same 
method  of  treatment  to  empirical  cognition 
and  the  theory  of  private  interest  in  the 
State.  Concerning  art  he  said  : Here  it 
insists  that  art  is  imitation  ; that  things  are 
to  be  painted  as  they  are  to  the  last  atom 
of  realism.  Ideals  are  false.  Nature  alone 
is  beautiful ; and  b}r  nature  is  meant  not 
her  perfect  intention,  as  if  she  had  a mind 
behind  her  appearances  which  was  striving 


to  reveal  itself  through  them,  but  simply 
the  things  of  sense,  — a bit  of  blue  slvy,  a 
puddle  of  green  slime,  a lady’s  boudoir,  a 
fish-boy  in  a heap  of  flounders,  eels  and 
crabs,  a street-walker  with  bedraggled  gar- 
ments and  frowsy  hair,  and  eyes  red  from 
loss  of  sleep,  or  M.  Zola’s  dirty  wash-tubs, 
anything  and  everything,  since  they  are  all 
alike  realities  and  equally  dear  to  nature, 
so  far  as  nature  only  signifies  whatever  is. 
To  prefer  one  scene  to  another  would  be  to 
assume  for  art  a superiority  over  nature, 
while  nature  never  discriminates,  and  would 
as  lief  make  a sunset  the  background  of  a 
buzzard’s  perch  on  a dead  horse  as  a ver- 
milion glory  in  itself.  Art,  therefore, 
must  not  choose  its  subjects,  but  copy  what- 
ever it  sees,  and  see  like  a cow  with  bio- 

O 

nature-loving  eyes.  For  if  beauty  dwell 
not  in  the  mind,  but  in  the  thing,  the  grass 
of  the  landscape  is  as  beautiful  to  the  cow 
as  to  the  man,  and  she  shows  a genuine 
artistic  instinct  by  gazing  at  it  for  hours 
together,  with  much  good  taste  and  rumi- 
nation. 

Moreover,  to  copjr  things  does  not  re- 
quire any  unity  of  intention,  for  they  have 
no  intention  of  unity.  Things  are  indiffer- 
ent to  each  other.  The  brook  never  dreams 
of  the  hills,  nor  the  trees  of  the  clouds, 
and  the  road  has  no  expectation,  as  it 
winds,  of  ford  or  of  forest.  Every  pebble, 
weed,  brier,  scraggy  oak,  drop  of  floating 
vapor  and  speck  of  mud,  seems  an  object 
by  itself,  and  may  be  painted  alone.  They 
do  not  conspire  to  form  a landscape,  and 
seen  near  give  no  hint  of  one. . It  is  the 
eye  of  the  mind  which,  from  afar,  lends 
them  the  harmony  of  its  own  perspective, 
and  frames  them  into  a single  view.  But 
such  a view,  according  to  the  tlieoiy  of  natu- 
ralism, is  inartistic,  inasmuch  as  it  falsi- 
fies the  disjoined  realities  of  nature.  Art, 
like  science,  must  stick  to  atoms  ; that  is, 
to  the  pebbles  and  briers  and  scraggy  oaks 
and  mud.  But  if  this  be  just,  it  finds  its 
perfection  in  photograph}’.  Quit  painting, 
therefore,  and  photograph  nature.  Photo- 


164 


Fichte’s  Doctrine  of  Religion. 


graphs  do  not  idealize,  but  imitate  tilings 
exactly.  The  man  with  the  camera  and 
sensitized  plate  surpasses  Buonarotti  or 
Raphael,  Claude  or  Turner.  Henceforth 
lie  is  the  artist  supreme. 

Mr.  Holland  closed  by  a discussion  of 


atomic  morals,  showing  how  the  identifi- 
cation of  good  with  pleasure,  and  pleasure 
with  pleasant  sensations,  was  as  narrow 
and  misguided  a doctrine  as  the  assertion 
that  realism  in  painting  is  true  art. 


Twenty-Fourth  Day,  — August  12. 


FICHTE’S  DOCTRINE  OF  RELIGION. 


BY  DR. 

TX  the  previous  lectures  we  have  seen 
how  Fichte  started  from  the  Kantian 
basis  and  united  into  one  “ Science  of 
Knowledge,”  the  doctrines  of  the  Critiques 
of  Pure  Reason  and  Practical  Reason. 
Kant  made  the  theoretical  part  of  his  sys- 
tem develop  the  results  of  the  pure  reason, 
while  the  practical  part  unfolds  a doc- 
trine superior  in  authority  to  the  theoreti- 
cal. The  will  furnishes  the  ground 
of  all  action  and  also  gives  the  only 
explanation  for  the  theoretical  antithesis 
of  Ego  and  non-Ego.  Will  presupposes 
an  objective  world  in  order  to  develop 
its  freedom  by  acting  on  it  and  trans- 
forming it.  By  such  free  action  it  be- 
comes like  the  absolute  Ego  and  removes 
its  fatal  defect.  The  limit  which  is  given 
in  the  objective  world  for  the  exercise  of 
its  will  is  also  a not-me  which  the  theoret- 
ical mind  cannot  explain  satisfactorily. 
It  presents  the  irreconcilable  theories  of 
idealism  and  materialism  as  equally  tena- 
ble and  justifiable  grounds.  We  noted, 
too,  that  any  system  that  makes  the  will 
the  supreme  principle  and  the  foundation 
of  the  intellect,  must  presuppose  an  un- 
conscious absolute,  — a transcendent  One 
above  thought.  Schopenhauer  is  the  one 
who  draws  the  legitimate  conclusion  from 
such  a doctrine.  Consciousness  as  result- 


HARRIS. 

ing  from  the  struggles  of  the  will,  and  as 
incident  on  the  existence  of  an  insur- 
mountable not-me  can  give  in  the  aggre- 
gate only  the  perception  of  pain  and  must 
lead  to  pessimism  as  a view  of  the  world. 

We  saw  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
antithesis  of  idealism  and  materialism,  set 
up  in  the  theoretical  part  of  the  science  of 
knowledge,  was  not  warranted  by  the 
premises.  The  third  general  principle  of 
the  common  basis  of  the  whole  science 
made  the  Ego,  or  consciousness,  the  ori- 
gin of  the  limitation  of  the  me  by  the 
not-me  and  hence  the  totality7  in  which 
the  antithesis  appears.  Hence  the  result 
should  have  been  that  an  absolute  Ego  or 
Reason  is  presupposed  as  the  ground  of 
nature  and  man  — a conclusion  which 
would  have  agreed  with  the  highest  result 
of  Greek  thought  as  adopted  by  Chris- 
tianity. Aristotle  would,  moreover,  have 
required  a recognition  of  this  principle  in 
the  statement  of  the  common  basis  with 
which  Fichte  begins  his  expositions  of  the 
science  of  knowledge,  by7  the  addition  of  a 
fourth  principle  which  stated  the  positing 
of  the  Ego  not  as  concluding  with  the 
category  of  quality  or  of  ground,  but  as  a 
totality  which  determined  within  itself  the 
distinction  of  subject  and  object.  Such  a 
distinction  would  leave  the  principle  self- 


Fichte’s  Doctrine  of  Religion. 


identical  in  both  its  sides  and  at  the  same 
time  make  explicit  the  transcendent  char- 
acter of  consciousness  or  mind. 

This  same  criticism  was  applied  also  to 
the  category  of  substantiality  which  should 
not  have  been  co-ordinate  with  that  oi 
causality,  as  Fichte  made  it,  but  transcen- 
dent, as  including  and  subordinating 
causality.  For  Fichte  made  substantiality 
the  principle  of  causality  taken  as  a 
whole,  and  therefore  as  causa  sui.  Kant 
had  been  careful  to  keep  the  idea  of 
God  along  with  those  of  freedom  and 
immortality  as  a regulative  idea,  al- 
though incomprehensible  by  thought. 
Fichte  substituted  for  it  a moral  order  of 
the  universe — a sort  of  law  without  will 
or  consciousness.  This  occasioned  the 
charge  of  atheism  and  his  dismissal  from 
Jena.  In  his  sensitive  soul  the  memory  of 
that  collision  would  draw  his  attention 
especially  to  the  bearing  of  his  science  on 
the  idea  of  God. 

Accordingly  we  find  him  in  the  “ Voca- 
tion of  Man,”  written  directly  after  his 
arrival  in  Berlin,  defining  the  absolute  as 
will,  although  still  denying  personality  to 
it.  Six  years  later  he  writes  his  “ Doc- 
trine of  Religion,”  or  tk  The  Way  Toward 
the  Blessed  Life,”  — a series  of  eleven  lec- 
tures that  show  an  astonishing  progress  in 
his  thinking  on  divine  things.  Indeed, 
within  the  work  itself  there  is  a very 
marked  development.  The  third  and 
fourth  lectures  show  his  arrival  at  the 
fundamental  point  of  view  of  Gnosticism. 
The  eighth  lecture  gives  a more  profound 
exposition  of  his  doctrine  of  being,  and  in 
the  ninth  he  rises  above  Gnosticism  and 
reaches  the  Aristotelian  principle  of  rea- 
son as  the  self  which  is  adequately  mani- 
fested in  its  objective  existence.  This 
gives  up  the  idea  of  a hidden  absolute  that 
is  not  revealed,  and  adopts  the  idea  of  an 
absolute  that  is  perfectly  revealed  in  man 
and  nature. 

In  the  sixth  lecture  we  have  the  clew  to 
his  theological  progress  in  a profound 


i65 

study  of  the  gospel  according  to  John.  If 
that  gospel  was  written  to  oppose  Gnosti- 
cism, which  made  reason,  soul  and  the 
world  to  be  aeons  which  descend  from  an 
absolute  one  which  they  do  not  reveal, 
but  only  pervert  and  misrepresent,  it  is 
not  singular  that  it  should  have  turned 
Fichte  out  of  his  phase  of  Gnosticism.  Of 
historical  Gnosticism  he  seems  to  have 
known  nothing.  Indeed,  Kant  and  Fichte 
say  very  little  of  the  history  of  philosophy. 
According  to  John  the  Logos  was  in  the 
beginning  with  God  and  identical  with 
him,  and  was  also  the  creator  of  the  world. 
Fichte  identifies  this  doctrine  with  his  own, 
which  says  first  that  there  is  absolute  being 
in  itself  which  has  not  arisen,  nor  contains 
anything  within  it  that  has  arisen,  but  is 
wholly  one  and  simple  in  its  essence. 
Besides  this  there  can  be  nothing  unless 
we  conceive  also  the  same  being  as  out  of 
itself — that  is  to  say,  as  existing.  Such 
existing  or  being  out  of  itself  there  must 
be,  because  the  world  is.  The  form  in 
which  being  can  be  outside  itself  is  con- 
sciousness. Consciousness  is  a reflection 
of  being,  and  has  something  of  the  nature 
of  a picture  or  image,  according  to  Fichte. 

This  leads  him  to  lay  stress  at  first  on 
the  difference  between  being  and  its  exist- 
ence in  consciousness  and  to  make  it 
transcend  the  latter  altogether,  as  the 
Gnostic  unity  transcends  its  aeons.  “ I 
distinguish  being,  essential,  self-contained 
being,  from  existence,  and  represent  these 
two  ideas  as  entirely  opposed  to  each 
other,  as  not  even  indirectly  connected 
with  each  other.” 

Then  he  comes  to  define  the  two  as  iden- 
tical : “ The  actual  life  of  knowledge  (or 

existence)  is  at  bottom  the  essential  being 
of  the  absolute  itself,  and  nothing  else  ; 
and  between  the  absolute,  or  God,  and 
knowledge  in  its  deepest  roots  there  is  no 
separation  or  distinction,  but  both  merge 
completely  into  one.”  And  again  : “ Be- 
sides God  there  is  truly,  and  in  the  proper 
sense  of  the  word,  no  other  existence 


1 66 


Fichte’s  Doctrine  of  Religion. 


whatever  but  knowledge  ; and  thus  knowl- 
edge (or  consciousness)  is  the  divine  ex- 
istence itself,  absolutely  and  immediately  ; 
and  in  so  far  afe  we  arc  this  knowledge,  we 
arc  ourselves,  in  the  deepest  root  of  our 
being,  the  divine  existence.”  This  “ deep- 
est root  of  knowledge”  refers  to  the  funda- 
mental principle  which  gives  unity  to  the 
whole.  Knowledge  in  its  principles  is 
unchangeable,  and  thus  a true  image  or 
revelation  of  the  divine  unity.  In  its  one 
highest  principle  it  reveals  the  absolute 
being  as  one  and  simple  in  its  essence. 
Since  thought  discovers  principles  as  the 
unities  of  the  facts  of  experience,  and 
goes  on  and  discovers  higher  principles  to 
unite  lower  principles  into  deeper  unities, 
thought  is  the  basis  of  the  blessed  life. 
In  the  fact  that  thought  discovers  the 
supreme  principle,  it  finally  brings  ns 
back  to  the  absolute  being  and  to  absolute 
blessedness.  Thought  appears  also  as 
divine  love  and  as  freedom  or  absolute  will. 

A very  important  point  is  reached  in 
this  recognition  of  thought,  or  theoretic 
mind,  as  being  the  chief  organ  of  elevation 
of  the  finite  existence  to  absolute  being. 
But  a more  important  insight  is  given  in 
the  demonstration  of  the  independence 
and  persistence  of  individuals.  The  de- 
velopment of  the  individual  is  a return 
from  the  immediate  and  particular  toward 
the  absolute  being.  Hence  the  individual 
has  the  possibility  of  realizing  in  himself, 
through  thought  and  will  and  love,  the 
total  existence  and  the  absolute  being. 
But  in  this  realization  he  acts  constantly 
under  the  individual  form  from  which  his 
reflection  began  and  consequently  pre- 
serves a personal  identity  forever. 

Fichte’s  explanation  of  the  creation  of  a 
world  of  particular  objects  is  identical 
with  that  of  Neo-Flatonism.  The  exist- 
ence or  consciousness  reflects  on  itself, 
and  by  the  act  of  attention  sees  all  the 
universals  — species  and  genera  — that 
constitute  it  an  existence  of  the  one  abso- 
lute being,  as  particulars.  Instead  of 


trees,  it  sees  these  trees;  instead  of  man, 
these  men  ; instead  of  beauty,  these  beau- 
tiful sights.  Thus,  Plotinus  said  that  the 
soul,  turning  around  to  view  her  Creator, 
formed  an  image  which  was  only  matter 
or  body  — that  is  to  say,  pure  particu- 
larity. 

Thus  the  whole  world  exists  onl}r  in 
consciousness,  and  not  as  the  divine  exist- 
ence, except  in  so  far  as  thought  goes 
back  by  reflection  from  particular  beings 
of  sense  to  the  universal  ideas  which  are 
the  principles  of  mind.  For  it  is  in  the 
principles  of  mind  alone  that  absolute 
being  finds  its  existence. 

Hence  Fichte  is  able  to  map  out  the 
way  to  the  blessed  life  as  five  stadia 
extending  from  the  standpoint  of  sense* 
perception,  which  is  the  lowest,  up  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  absolute  being  itself. 
First,  sense-perception  has  before  it  a 
world  of  infinitely  manifold  particulars, 
and  hence  cannot  see  the  absolute  being 
except  in  the  feeblest  manner.  Next 
comes  the  standpoint  of  legality,  wherein 
species  and  genera  are  perceived  as  ab- 
stract laws  only,  including  laws  of  nature 
■and  the  moral  laws.  The  third  standpoint 
is  that  of  the  higher  morality,  which  sees 
not  a dead  law,  but  a creative  law  — an 
ideal  that  urges  the  soul  on  to  action. 
This  is  the  highest  point  reached  by  Fichte 
in  his  first  writings. 

Now,  however,  he  goes  on  to  the  defi- 
nition of  two  higher  forms  of  realizing  the 
blessed  life.  The  fourth  is  religion,  which 
places  reality  not  in  a moral  law,  or  even 
in  a moral  idea,  but  in  God  alone  and  in 
his  existence  or  revelation  through  the 
soul  of  man.  The  highest  of  these  stadia 
is  that  of  science  (or  philosophy)  which 
comprehends  the  transition  of  the  one  into 
the  manifold,  of  the  absolute  into  a rela- 
tive, and  the  return  from  the  multiplicity 
into  the  primitive  unity.  It  comprehends 
the  origin  of  the  particular  finite  existence 
from  the  universal.  It  changes  mere  faith 
into  insight. 


The  Closing  Words. 


167 


I11  his  treatment  of  Christianity  Fichte 
reaches  many  positions  similar  to  those 
of  Emerson  in  his  Address  before  the 
Divinity  School.  A sonnet  of  Fichte, 
written  from  his  later  standpoint,  is  trans- 
lated by  President  Seelye  of  Amherst  as 
follows  : — 

“ The  Eternal  One 

Lives  in  my  life  and  sees  in  my  beholding. 


Nought  is  but  God,  and  God  is  nought  but  life. 

Clearly  the  vail  of  things  rises  before  thee ; 

It  is  thyself ; what  though  the  mortal  die 

And  hence  there  lives  but  God  in  thine 
endeavors, 

If  thou  wilt  look  through  that  which  lives 
beyond  this  death, 

The  vail  of  things  shall  seem  to  thee  as  vail, 

And  unveiled  thou  shalt  look  upon  the  life 
divine.” 


THE  CLOSING  WORDS. 


ANNOUNCEMENTS  AND  VALEDICTORY. 


BY  ME. 

1 1 ''HE  conversation  which  bore  directly 
upon  the  lecture  was  brief.  Mr. 
Alcott  regarded  it  as  peculiarly  fitting  that 
so  eloquent  an  exposition  of  Fichte  should 
crown  the  work  of  the  3’ear.  Mr.  Emery 
thought  “The  Way  Toward  the  Blessed 
Life”  was  a wonderful  revelation  of 
Fichte’s  thought,  and  that  one  cannot 
make  anything  out  of  his  philosoply 
without  reading  the  book.  Mr.  Emery 
then  announced  a pamphlet  of  authorized 
abstracts  of  the  3'ear’s  lectures  to  be  pub- 
lished by  Mr.  Moses  King  of  Cambridge, 
and  announced  also  the  programme  for 
1883  so  far  as  it  had  been  arranged.  The 
term  will  begin  on  Wednesday,  July  18, 
and  close  on  Friday,  August  10.  No 
lectures  will  be  given  on  Saturda3Ts,  and 
there  will  be  thirt3’-five  in  the  entire 
course.  The  beginning  on  Wednescla3T 
is  for  the  accommodation  of  those  who 
live  at  a distance  and  find  it  inconvenient 
to  arrive  on  Monday.  In  addition  to  the 
regular  lectures,  morning  and  evening, 
there  will  be  a series  of  five  elementaiy 
lessons  to  introduce  pupils  into  the  method 
of  philosophic  study.  These  will  be  given 
at  the  Hillside  Chapel  in  the  afternoon, 


ALCOTT. 

and  will  be  free  to  those  who  have  tickets 
to  regular  lectures ; only  those  will  be 
admitted  who  have  previously  registered 
an  intention  of  attending.  This  course 
has  been  undertaken  at  the  suggestion  of 
persons  interested  in  the  school. 

Next  3rear’s  lectures,  so  far  as  known, 
will  be  delivered  by  Dr.  William  T.  Harris 
of  Concord,  Dr.  H.  K.  Jones  of  Jackson- 
ville, 111.,  Mr.  A.  Bronson  Alcott  and  Mr. 
F.  B.  Sanborn  of  Concord,  the  Rev.  Dr.  R.  A. 
Holland  of  Chicago,  and  Professor  George 
H.  Howison  of  Boston.  Each  of  these 
six  persons  will  deliver  four  lectures,  and 
no  announcement  can  be  made  as  to  the 
eleven  remaining  lectures,  except  that  they 
will  probably  be  delivered  by  persons  who 
have  already  lectured.  In  the  four  years 
about  a thousand  persons  have  left  their 
names  with  the  Secretary,  and  the  toial 
attendance  has  been  about  fifteen  hundred 
persons. 

Mr.  Alcott  said  that  the  school  had 
reason  for  great  encouragement.  A yeai  lv 
improvement  had  been  manifest  in  the 
lectures.  The  School  had  been  a novel 
experiment.  People  asked  whether  philos- 
ophy had  any  practical  value,  and  were 


:68 


The  Closing  Words. 


inclined  to  ridicule  the  school ; but  more 
people  had  come  than  were  expected. 
The  School  had  aimed  to  show  that  philos- 
ophy was  really  the  doctrine  of  life,  of 
living  nobly  and  well,  and  that  it  was  a 
practical  thing.  This  year  the  attendance 
had  not  been  large ; but  that  was  not 
a discouragement.  Curious  people  had 
come  ; but  this  year  it  had  been  demon- 
strated that  there  was  a sufficient  num- 
ber of  persons  interested  in  the  study  of 
philosophy  to  sustain  the  School.  Some 
persons  want  teachers  in  philosophy,  and 
next  year  the  experiment  of  providing 
teachers  will  be  made.  It  had  been  sug- 
gested that  the  school  should  go  West 
next  year,  so  as  to  be  nearer  the  large 
number  of  Western  pupils.  But  the 
faculty  had  decided  not  to  go  peddling  to 
a support  which  would  not  come  volun- 
tarily. He  really  believed  that  a little 
seed  was  being  sown  on  that  hillside 
which  would  spring  up  into  everlasting 
life. 

The  faculty  had  undertaken  a little 
book,  with  the  utmost  delicacy,  and  ques- 
tioning whether  it  was  not  going  beyond 
their  self-respect.  But,  on  the  whole,  as 
the  public  had  read  the  newspapers  and 
had  learned  to  select  the  truth,  which  was 
sometimes  strangely  shaded  in  them  from 
error,  they  had  concluded  to  risk,  after 
revision,  a little  book.  They  did  not  ask 
anjr  one  to  do  it,  but  the  publication  was 
voluntarily  offered  by  a reputable  pub- 
lisher. So  the  public  will  have  a chance 
to  learn  the  doings  of  the  present  year. 
The  prospects  of  the  school,  he  thought, 


were  hopeful.  It  had  been  shown  that  it 
was  safe  for  young  people  to  come  there 
and  not  to  have  their  faith  shaken.  Phi- 
losophy has  been  taken  from  Germany  ; but 
it  has  been  interpreted  by  an  American 
expounder,  and  people  no  longer  fear  to 
open  a German  book  lest  they  thereby 
become  sinners  the  next  morning.  Ger- 
manj-  had  done  the  thinking  of  the  world 
for  the  past  forty  years,  and  that  thinking 
commands  attention.  There  is  probably 
growing  somewhere,  perhaps  in  Concord, 
an  American  philosophy,  coming  fresh 
from  the  soil.  Among  them  at  Concord 
had  been  one  of  saintly  life  who  was 
known  over  all  Christendom  and  beyond  ; 
who  was  claimed  today  by  all  as  belonging 
to  their  school  and  their  church  ; who  saw 
underneath  all  little  classifications  and 
creeds,  and  saw  the  life  which  they  repre- 
sent, the  universal  truth  interpreted  by 
Aristotle  and  Plato.  11  Let  me  say,”  said 
Mr.  Alcott,  “that  he  spoke  in  the  name  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth,  if  I know  what  Jesus 
taught.  That  is  an  example  of  what  we 
mean  by  the  philosophy  of  life.” 

Mr.  Alcott  then  spoke  the  valedictory 
words,  and  thanked  his  listeners  for  the 
honor  of  their  attendance.  He  believed 
that  the  school  was  going  to  send  into  the 
nursery  better  mothers,  that  it  would  send 
better  teachers  to  the  schools  and  colleges, 
that  it  would  result  in  better  professional 
men,  that  it  would  cause  better  interpreta- 
tions of  the  Sacred  Book  in  the  pulpit, 
and  that  it  would  help  in  all  directions. 
Mr.  Emery  then  declared  the  session  of 
1882  to  be  at  an  end. 


